Downton Abbey Redux
by HotEntree
Summary: Mary and Matthew are engaged and the drama continues, filled with romance, sex and suspense. Caution:this story is erotic, containing graphic but tasteful descriptions of sexual acts. They're in love after all. Heartfelt thanks to Julian Fellowes for M&M. Many thanks to BetaLayne for her fine edits on Chapter 17.
1. After Words

After Words

Mary opened her eyes. She knew by the chill in the room that it was only seconds before dawn. A new fire had just been lit and its warm glow danced against the walls of her bed chamber. Lying on her back amid her rumpled bed linens, Mary savored her memory of yesterday's transactions with Matthew, beginning with his proposal. The tremors of her heart rippled down to her sex as she recalled the tenderness they shared. She reached up to touch her lips, still not quite able to believe the loveliness of it all. That they had been able to leave each other last night was the work of his better angels, not hers.

After she had accepted him, they had spent time making plans, putting off Matthew's reluctant departure. The late hour soon demanded that he return to Crawley House. They stood at the front door, both of them sorry to part company, holding hands like schoolchildren. She felt like such a girl when she was with him. That had never changed. His attention had always made her self-conscious, less composed.

Just before he was to set out, Matthew drew her to him for one final kiss. She sensed his longing in the force of his arms as he held her. She yearned to give way to him. "My darling...," he whispered into her ear, his lips gently caressing her lobe. Her appetite for him overwhelmed her. She pressed her hips against his. It was a signal that could not be misread.

Ever so slowly, Matthew lowered his lips to hers. "I have loved you for so long, Mary," he whispered. He lightly caressed her lips with his own and Mary held back a gasp in her throat. His lips were moist and his breath smelled of peaches. How delicious it all was. Her lips parted. Her heart was pounding. When she felt the lightness of his tongue between her lips, her knees grew weak. She draped her arms around his neck. She pressed her open mouth against his. They kissed with the passion of young lovers reunited after years of desertion. Mary hungered for more.

She broke their embrace and grabbed his hand. There seemed this sense of heated urgency that left no place for words. She led him quickly and quietly to the closest refuge, the north library. They sat down on the divan nearest to the entrance. Mary looked into his eyes. She could see his desire in the depth of his gaze. She placed her gloved hand on his thigh and raised her lips to his. He held her head in his hands. "Kiss me, Matthew," she whispered. Her lips caressed his, tempting him, teasing him. She saw him smile. She smiled then too, and pressed her hot open mouth against his. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, licking her tongue, her teeth, and the silken underside of her lips. She was astonished at their lust for each other.

Matthew's tongue reached into the back of her open mouth. It seemed impossible for him to curb himself. He pressed himself against her until she lay against the cushions of the divan. His kiss was impassioned, lustful. His hand wandered over her throat and down to her chest. He reached into the crest of her bodice. The fabric gave way easily. He grabbed at her breast. He felt the stiffness of her nipple and gasped. He began kneading her breast firmly, with purpose. His other hand grabbed at her skirt and began to pull it up and up. His hand found the narrow gap between her stockings and her drawers. He grabbed at the flesh of her thigh, spreading her legs apart.

Matthew raised his head in a temporary reprieve from his gentle assault. His voice was deep and breathless as he whispered desperately, "My God, Mary, you must stop me."

Mary had no such intention. She wanted him to have her. She reached out with her right hand and grabbed the back of his neck, drawing him slowly back to her. Matthew had never known such craving. His entire body ached for her and he laid his head against her breast, trying to still himself. He felt as if every point of his being was aflame and quivering. It wasn't human, this. He was a god. She was his sacrifice.

He knew she would be his but not now, not here. He sat up and reached for her. He pulled her to a seated position and held her close. "No more spells, my sweet Mary. You must let me leave you", Matthew chided softly into her hair. His breathing was rapid and low. Mary reached up and brushed a blond forelock from his eyes. She rose and then smoothed her frock. She drew her hair back in one neat motion. His gallantry only made her want him more but she knew he was right. "Your wish is my command," she said quietly, smiling.

He and she walked quietly towards the entranceway. Matthew touched her cheek quickly and with a soft-spoken "Goodnight, darling," he was out the door. Another kiss from her and he would never leave.

Mary remembered envying Matthew the cold walk home. As she padded quietly up the stairs, she knew it would take her forever to fall asleep.


	2. Such Good News

Chapter Two – Such Good News

When Mary awoke for the second time, it was in the fullness of morning. She opened her eyes lazily, and stretched her limbs to the ends of her bed. She was totally wrought up in feelings of blissful expectation. She sighed happily and reached out to ring the bell for Anna.

"Matthew, Matthew, Matthew," she sang softly to herself. She was enchanted. She rose and sat down at her vanity. A light rap on her door broke her reverie. Anna entered quietly and set at once to pulling the drapes open. "Good morning, m'lady. Sleep well then?" asked Anna. Mary noticed Anna's gray complexion in an instant as daylight spilled into the room. Anna was haggard. Clearly, they had each of them slept fitfully but for very different reasons. She was unsure of how to relate her happy news to her ill-starred maid and decided against it for now. She would keep her emotions in check.

Mary smiled at her. "Well enough, I suppose, in the circumstances, Anna. Did you enjoy the Ball last evening? It can't have been easy, I know."

Anna poured hot water into the cream-coloured basin across the room. "I enjoyed it as best I could, m'lady. There were distractions," Anna returned the smile but grimly.

"Still, you bore your concerns well", Mary responded. "I can't thank you enough for your observations on behalf of my aunt, despite everything." The two women exchanged a knowing glance that belied the disparity in their respective ranks. Anna brought Mary a damp warm cloth which she put instantly to use. Anna set to brushing Mary's long brown hair.

"Anna…I do so want you to know how very much I'm hoping and praying for Bates. You must know as well that my father will do all in his power to see him back at Downton."

"I do know that. Both John and I are so very grateful, m'lady."

A comfortable silence settled in for a minute or two. In lower tones, Mary said quietly, "What was it like, your wedding night? Was it all you expected it to be?"

The question was certainly unexpected but Anna's face warmed, her eyes softened. "It was lovely. And no, it was not what I expected. It was much more." She continued to brush her mistress's hair.

Mary ventured again. "Did it hurt?" She could not look at Anna, embarrassed as she was by her own boldness.

"M'lady!" Anna exclaimed in a whisper, feigning shock. As she brushed, she looked to be choosing her words carefully. "Let me just say this. John had far more experience than I. He knew what I was about, how things worked. If there was pain, I have no memory of it." Anna blushed slightly.

Mary pursed her lips in a small smile, lowered her head and quickly changed the subject. She looked to her wardrobe and said, "I rely on your choice today, Anna. Make it a happy one. I'm quite beyond making any decisions today."

Anna laid out Mary's blue skirt, an ivory blouse and walking over to the dresser, fetched her mistress's corset and drawers. She stopped her work momentarily and peered at Mary, quizzical and amused at the same time. "You're different today, m'lady. I might even say that you're glowing. Anything you care to share?"

Mary turned from the glass to address her. "Anna, whatever do you mean? Is it not a day unlike any other? Your husband was facing the gallows and is now reprieved. You can't deny me the relief that I feel for Bates." Mary gave Anna the whole of the joy that she felt in a wide smile.

"All right then, m'lady." Anna smiled back. "You're absolutely right." She proceeded to help Mary dress. The two enjoyed each other's quiet company.

"Lady Edith is with your mother in the dining room. What shall I tell Mrs. Patmore?"

"Nothing for the moment, Anna. Thank you. I'll be down shortly".

Anna left the room, closing the door soundlessly behind her.

After several minutes and her preparations completed, Mary studied her reflection. She wanted so much that her appearance should please him. Her hand rose to her throat where memories of his kisses lingered. She followed the length of her neck with her index finger until her palm rested on her chest. She could feel her heart beating. She belonged to Matthew now. She would dwell on this notion until his arrival. Otherwise, every moment would seem an eternity. She reached for her favorite scent, dabbed it on both wrists and on either side of her neck. She rose and left her room.

As Mary approached the dining room, she struggled for reserve and stood briefly outside of the entrance. Deep breath. Go with bold strides. "Good morning, Ma-ma, Edith."

"Good morning, Mary," Lady Cora responded lovingly. "You were up late."

"Was I?" She was all coyness. She wondered what her mother knew. She sat down at the table.

"When I retired, you were still dancing," her mother said, "With Matthew." She looked toward her eldest daughter, her right eyebrow raised.

Edith rose. "Ma-ma, I'm taking a drive. Do you need anything?"

"Perfect, Edith. I have a letter for your sister, Sybil. I'll fetch it for you in a few minutes."

Edith looked out the window. "Speaking of Cousin Matthew, he's just outside. Are you expecting him?" She looked to Mary.

"Why on earth would I be expecting him?" Mary rose to join her sister at the window.

"Your father made no mention of him. Perhaps there are some accounts to be settled. He must be leaving for Manchester soon." Lady Cora looked to Mary for her reaction. Mary said nothing. She turned to smile at her mother. Mary was so excited, she feared giving herself away.

"I'll see to him, Ma-ma, if you'll excuse me" said Mary. "I'm not at all hungry."

Lady Cora did not want to excuse her. She was fond of Matthew but he had nothing to offer Mary in the way of a future. She wished her eldest daughter would for once recognize the futility of nurturing such a deep friendship with her cousin. He was a leaden anchor, weighing her down and away from potential suitors. Cora comforted herself with thoughts of Mary's plans for America.

As Mary came upon the entry way, Carson already had Matthew's coat in hand. "I will let his Lordship know you're here, Mr. Crawley."

"Thank you, Carson, but I can make my own way to the library, if you don't mind. I've got rather urgent business with him." Matthew watched Mary's approach and smiled. She was, he thought, sheer perfection.

"Cousin Mary…how are you?"

"Matthew, I'm so very happy to see you." Mary grabbed his hand. Carson was out of sight. She kissed him quickly on the cheek and drew back. Matthew looked past her, assuring himself of their privacy. He reached for her waist and pulled her to him. "Is that all I'm entitled to, even now when we're engaged to be married?" Matthew scolded her, "Have you no idea of how long I've been waiting?" He caressed her right cheek with the back of his left hand. He smiled, leaning down to kiss her. He kissed her soft lips fully, firmly.

Mary reciprocated, parting her lips to breathe him in. Fearing capture, she broke the kiss first, pulled away and composed herself in seconds. "Matthew Crawley, you do take liberties", she teased quietly. She gave him her classic smile. "To the library then?" she asked. They walked together. "Would you fancy a ride later this afternoon?" Mary asked him. "It would be nice to get some fresh air."

"We could make a day of it," Matthew suggested slyly. "We could be out there in an hour, if we play our cards right."

"Perfect." Another classic smile. All she wanted was to be alone with him and soon. She cared not a whit whether that involved horses.

Matthew stood back at the entrance to the library, allowing her to pass in front of him. He caught a whiff of her perfume as she walked past and he was instantly aroused. It was the same perfume that had filled the night air as he preyed upon her in the north library.

Robert Crawley stood at his desk, distracted. Hearing their chatter, he looked up. "Good morning! Matthew, I wasn't expecting to see you today. I thought perhaps we might have worn you out completely. From all appearances, your dance card was quite full last night."

"You know I really quite enjoyed myself," Matthew replied. "I wasn't expecting to. Things seemed to get better as the evening went on." He passed a knowing glance to Mary.

"Glad to hear it," his lordship said jovially.

Matthew cleared his throat. "Robert, I'm afraid I have some unfinished business with you."

"Do you? Something to do with the estate?" Robert's voice was worried.

"Not entirely. You see…" Matthew paused, looked at Mary and back to Robert. "Mary has finally accepted me. I've come to ask you for her hand."

Robert looked at Matthew incredulously, and then to Mary. "What are you saying?" He was in fact speechless. He walked over to his eldest daughter. "Is this true?" he asked her, knowing full well that it must be. She grabbed his hands. "It is, Pa-pa." They embraced warmly.

Lord Grantham turned to face Matthew, beaming. "My good man!" Robert grabbed Matthew's hand and shook it firmly. "You shall have it then. In truth, I can't imagine that it ever belonged to anyone else." Robert rang the bell for Thomas. "We must tell Cora. And you and Cousin Isobel must dine with us tonight!"

As he gazed warmly at them both, Robert's words of days past echoed in his memory. 'I want a good man for you, a brave man.'

Such good news, indeed.


	3. Riding

Chapter Three –Riding

Cora's reaction was, as expected, one of unbridled joy – and unspoken relief. "So…have you decided on a date?" Her eyes were veritable beacons of anticipation.

"It's to be in June, Ma-ma. We wanted to marry sooner but…," Mary looked to Matthew.

"I have business matters to settle in Manchester," finished Matthew, "And I still need to re-establish my law practice in Ripon."

Cora cautioned her daughter, "June is not long away, Mary. We simply must get started."

"Wedding plans," Robert said plainly. "Well, I'm afraid that signals my exit. Matthew, shall we leave this business to the ladies?"

Matthew looked at Mary and back to Robert. "Forgive me, Cousin Robert, but Mary and I have plans for an outing. We're to go riding. Isn't that right, darling?"

"Yes, it is. And the day is wearing thin. We should head out." Mary's heart fluttered at the thought of the afternoon's prospects. She had already planned out her strategy and had a precise destination in mind.

Not an hour later, Mary dismounted her ride and tied her horse onto the post of the weathered fence at the edge of the wild. She watched Matthew ride up. "You win again, Mary. Remind me never to wager you. You'll bankrupt me." He gave her a sidelong glance. She laughed, petting the black muzzle of her horse. Matthew landed softly on the ground beside her. His horse tethered securely beside hers, Matthew grabbed her hand and Mary led him into the forest. The brush around them crackled and snapped as they forced their way. "What is this?" Matthew inquired as they came upon a small cabin.

Mary whispered in dramatic fashion, "It is the haunted cottage of Hanging George the Gameskeeper."

Matthew laughed lightly. "That's ghastly. You're joking, surely." He tried the latch and it didn't budge.

"I assure you, I'm not. He did hang himself." Mary answered. "My sisters and I never ventured back here. We were terrified of coming upon his corpse swinging in the trees." She looked about her in a pretense of nervousness.

Matthew continued to study the problem of the door. "Don't be scared, darling," he rejoined, "I am your fearless protector." He grinned at her. Matthew braced to take down the door by force while Mary looked on, amused. "Step aside, sir." She shifted her hips, shoving him playfully. He stepped back and put his arms about her waist, hugging her to him. He buried his face into the side of her neck. She jiggled the door back and forth while pressing keenly on the ancient fixture with both hands. The door sprung ajar. Her eyes flashed at him triumphantly. She stepped forward into the damp and dark structure. Matthew followed her, his hand on her hip.

Together, they surveyed the state of things. The place smelled faintly of must and there was a thick veneer of dust on the cabin's two windows, making them impassible to a view. The room was sparsely furnished. There was a wooden cot in the corner, bearing a thin mattress of questionable use. A table and chair had been installed across from the cot.

Standing so close to her, Matthew was heady from her scent. He felt his passions rising. He turned her to face him. Mary's face was still flush from the ride and tendrils of her hair framed her cheeks and forehead. He brushed aside a stray brown tress from her eyes. "You are quite simply the most beautiful creature I've ever beheld," Matthew teased softly. "Why ever did you bring me here?"

Mary turned around to face the room once again. She tried her best to sound detached, "Oh, I don't know. You'll have to learn to hunt now we're to be married. This place could prove useful." Mary felt abandoned by her usual poise. She walked to the table, taking off her gloves first, then her jacket. She draped it on the back of the chair. "Just try to imagine it." She turned and smiled at him.

"Do you know what I think, Mary?" he said, striding to her and taking off his gloves in turn. He pulled her to him. His eyes travelled from her eyes, down her throat to the rise and fall of her breasts. "I think you mean to seduce me," he whispered into her hair. His hands slid down the curve of her back, to her hips and he pulled her closer still, until she could feel the hardness of his loins against her thigh. "Am I right?" His blue eyes were piercing, his breathing, soft but labored. "Is that what you mean to do?" he whispered into her mouth, their lips poised for intercourse.

Mary draped her arms about his neck. His lips were even softer than she remembered. She opened her mouth, her tongue sliding along the inside of his top and bottom lips. They felt like silk.

Matthew took her head in both of his hands and murmured tenderly, "God, I love you, Mary, beyond anything imaginable." He looked at her intently. "Can you feel what you do to me, Mary Crawley?" Before she could answer, he kissed her again, fiercely, lustfully. His right hand felt for the buttons of her blouse and he undid them with as much haste as he could muster. Upon the last, he reached under her blouse over her bare shoulders, and ran his hands down her silken arms. Her blouse wafted to the floor. Instinctually, Mary let her head fall back, allowing him a clear path to her throat. His lips landed there and traced a downward path. Mary watched, wide-eyed, as his lips caressed the tops of her breasts that mounded from the ruffled lace of her corset.

She held onto his head, losing her fingers in his hair. He straightened, and asked her, breathlessly, "Is it all right?" His eyes were a desperate blue and his blond hair was tousled. He was so utterly wild, vulnerable, like a boy after her approval. Mary was speechless; she was so consumed by her wanton appetites. He grabbed her hands and brought them up to the top of her corset. Together at first, they began to unhook the silver fastenings. Then he stood back and watched as she continued the task, her dark brown hair draping down.

Matthew watched, mesmerized. When she had finished, she returned his stare and allowed her corset to fall from her body. His countenance shifted visibly as he surveyed her nakedness. He pulled her to him boldly by her waist and with his other hand, he cupped her breast, squeezing gently. Her breasts were smooth, rounded and white, like the halves of a pear. He brushed his lips, first against the right one, then the left, alternately licking, sucking, and biting.

Mary quivered, uttering softly, "Matthew, oh…please…" She draped her arms about his neck and buried her face in his hair. He picked her up and laid her on the cot. She arched her back, hoping to entice him to even greater delights. Her nipples were wet, pink candies. He stared, brushing the palms of his hands lightly over one then the other. They seemed to tremble to his touch. Mary gasped as he took a full breast into his mouth, swirling his tongue around its swollen tip. She moaned, feeling the swell of desire between her hips and thighs.

Matthew raised his head, mouth open. He stared at Mary, as a wolf might stare down its prey. Eyes fixed on her, he stood up and quickly removed his jacket, throwing it onto the chair. Mary had not seen this Matthew. He had an air of savagery about him that titillated her. He continued to undress, first unbuttoning his cuffs, then his shirt front. His manner was hurried but deliberate. He was as naked as she when he reclaimed his place. "You must promise me, Mary, that you will have no other lover." His voice was deep, commanding. She slid her hands across his broad shoulders and down his muscled arms. He leaned over once again to continue ravishing her. He set again to fondling her breasts gently while they kissed with hot open mouths and he pressed her to him. "Promise me," he whispered fiercely as he kissed her.

Mary felt herself hot, wet and aching between her thighs. She grasped at his hair with both hands. "Oh, Matthew…" she gasped. He grabbed her right hand and placed it on his crotch, showing her the shape and form of his throbbing desire for her. Eagerly, she sat up and brought her skirted legs underneath her. She wanted so much to please him. The heat in her belly rose as she began to work on his belt. Matthew leaned back against the wall and watched as Mary pulled at the leather straps with her slender white fingers.

The future Earl of Grantham could hardly believe his good fortune. She was his Aphrodite and he was on the brink of redeeming his reward for pleasures received. How utterly lovely she was. Her milky shoulders were veiled by random lengths of silky brown hair. He was surprised by her deftness as she made short work of his buttons. She reached into his briefs and wrapped her fingers around his thickness, brazenly. Holding his shaft with her right hand, she used her left to pull away the folds of his clothing. She stared at the fullness of him as if she was not able to fathom it. Following a lustful hunch, she stroked him with her left hand while the fingers of her right hand danced around its swollen knob with light caresses.

Matthew reclined his head, and closed his eyes as Mary's fingers sent him headlong into a spiral of ecstasy. He yearned to watch her as she handled him but he feared an early climax. He opened his eyes slowly just as her head descended. He could feel the heat of her breath along the shaft. "No, Mary, you mustn't…" Matthew grabbed her before her tongue had found its landing.

He fell back against the wall, trembling. Mary reclined with him and laid her head on his chest. "A moment," he said softly. "I don't want this to end just yet." He was panting.

"Did I please you?" Mary looked to him hopefully, biting her bottom lip. Matthew laughed. "Yes", he breathed, and kissed her forehead tenderly. "Very much." He rested his lips against her hair. Only seconds had passed when Mary rose to her feet. She could feel Matthew's eyes upon her. She undid the buttons at the back of her skirt and let it fall. She stepped over it easily and returned to Matthew.

She reached out to him. He grabbed her outstretched hands and she pulled him to standing. His pants immediately dropped to the ground. She smiled and pushed him back onto the bed. "This is why I brought you here, Matthew Crawley," she teased softly. She undid the ribbons that held up her drawers and they fell beside her skirt. She stepped out of her boots gingerly.

Matthew was awestruck. His breath quickened as she walked towards the cot, and straddled his thighs. She grabbed his hand and thrust it between her legs. She moaned as he slid his fingers between her creamy folds. As he explored her depths, he ran his open mouth across her bosom. Their lust for each other was building to a height. She began to rock on his hand. She draped her arms about his neck, kissed him and thrust her tongue into his throat. She broke the kiss and pleaded, "Now, Matthew, please, please…"

She raised her thighs and Matthew placed his cock on the threshold of her hot and luscious puss. Slowly, she lowered herself. Matthew let out a gasping cry as his rod was swallowed up in the tight recesses between her buttocks. Mary watched Matthew. His eyes were closed, his mouth open in a wordless expression of bliss. He grabbed her hips and began to push them back and forth. She rocked, each movement raising the heat in her loins. Matthew opened his eyes and saw the woman of his dreams mounted on him in a frenzy of ecstasy. He buried his head between her breasts and his shaft quivered and thrusted and quivered again.

He fell back against the wall, spent. Every cell in his body was vibrating, alive. He looked up to see Mary, leaning over him, smiling, and her long hair lightly grazing his chest. Her eyes were welling up with tears. "Darling," he said softly, "Did I hurt you?" She shook her head and laid her head gently against his chest. They lay there in silence for several minutes, both rapturous.

"I suppose we should depart for home soon" Mary said lazily. She traced her finger from his throat down to his chest and over his stomach. She turned and rested her chin on his chest, looking up at him. "We don't have much time to prepare for dinner."

"Would you mind very much wearing your black gown, the sleeveless one?" Matthew asked. "That's always been my personal favorite."

"You're mad," Mary laughed. "As if you remember all of the gowns that I've ever worn."

"I do." Matthew challenged her. 'And that one is really the most fetching…the others not so much." He grinned like a schoolboy.

"What about the one I wore last night. You seemed to like that one well enough, "she teased. "You did, after all, propose to me."

"I think that proposal had more to do with this," he kissed her throat, "…and these," he kissed her two breasts, "and this." He ran his hand up and down her thigh and slapped her left buttock.

She laughed and kissed him, lingering. She lifted her head. "Promise me you'll come to the house as soon as you can."

"I promise."

They rose from the cot and gathered their clothes.


	4. Afterglow

Chapter Four – Afterglow

Mrs. Hughes met up with Mr. Carson in the hall outside of the kitchen. "So is it true?" she asked him directly. She appeared stoic as an undertaker. "And I won't be put off, Mr. Carson. The sooner I have it confirmed the better." Dinner preparations were in full swing. Carson ushered Mrs. Hughes to his office and closed the door.

"You refer of course to Lady Mary and Mr. Crawley. Yes, it is true. I'm told that the wedding will be in June but that is all." Carson allowed himself a brief smile. "I don't have to tell you, Mrs. Hughes, that this event will have all the grandeur of a Royal Wedding. It will demand our highest standard of service."

"Well, I don't know about a Royal Wedding but it will be grand, to be sure," said Mrs. Hughes. She sighed and pursed her lips. "Mr. Carson, you needn't contain your glee quite so well. I only hope that Lady Mary aspires to deserve him. And I am happy for Lord and Lady Grantham. It cannot be anything but a huge relief for them both."

Carson could not let the comment go unanswered. "While it is the best possible resolution for the entail, I'm certain that their greater joy resides in the prospects for Lady Mary's happiness. She has loved Mr. Crawley for lo' these many years."

"Well, she sure had a funny way of showing it." Mrs. Hughes smiled. "The romance is not lost on me, Mr. Carson. I just hope that it's finally settled. This household has endured enough heartbreak for one year."

"Certainly, Mrs. Hughes. Now if you'll excuse me, His Lordship has ordered champagne for the evening's festivities. I should tend to that sooner rather than later."

Lady Mary Crawley stood in front of the full-length glass to assess the results of her and Anna's toils. Her black gown shimmered. She trusted that it was the dress that he wanted, for she had more than one dress that matched his request. Mary turned when she spied her mother's reflection in the mirror.

"Yes, Ma-ma?"

"Matthew is here." Lady Cora smiled. "He's asked for you."

Mary's pleasure was not well-concealed. "What do you think, Ma-ma?" Mary stood before her mother for her approval. "Do I look the part?"

Lady Cora let out a contented sigh. "You've never been one to seek my opinion, Mary. Now I know you're in love." She stood beside her daughter, both of them dwelling on the mirror image. "Love has a way of turning a woman into the most beautiful one in the room. Matthew will be hard-pressed to take his eyes off you."

Mary turned, her eyes gleaming like diamonds. "Oh, Ma-ma…I never dreamed I would be as happy as I am now."

"Darling, I assure you, neither did I!" Lady Cora laughed. She handed Mary her gloves and instantly regretted her remark. Her thoughts had turned to the Pamuk affair and then to Sir Richard's dark words. Did Matthew know? And if he did not, would a published newspaper scandal scuttle their happiness? It was a gathering storm. Lady Cora feared the worst and made up her mind to speak to Mary about it. But not now.

"Shall we go down, Ma-ma?" Mary waited for her on the threshold of her bedroom. Lady Cora followed.

Everyone was gathered in the drawing room. The dinner guests included Cousin Isobel, the Dowager Countess, and Lady Rosamund. True to form, the elder Crawleys appeared to have just discovered yet another difference of opinion. Neither one seemed able to look at the other. That was soon to change.

"Good evening, all. Good evening, Granny, Cousin Isobel… Aunt Rosamund, how unexpected!" She greeted her aunt with a kiss. Mary then took her place beside Matthew. It felt natural to do so, as if they had already exchanged their vows.

"Mary, how lovely to see you," said Matthew. "You look well this evening."

"I do so love a ride in the afternoon, Matthew. The fresh air always invigorates me," Mary replied without the least hint of her true meaning. She tilted her head and smiled gaily at him.

"I quite agree," said Matthew. "I can see that I've not placed enough stock in country sports. I shall go riding with you more often in the future, if you'll have me."

The chemistry between them was palpable. Upon Mary's entrance into the room, he could see or hear no one else. Her presence demanded the attention of all of his senses. For Mary's part, she wanted nothing more than to throw her arms about his neck. In fact, she didn't know how much longer she could go on without touching him. It was torturous really but at the same time, quite lovely.

"You and Matthew went out riding together? How was it?" Lady Edith inquired.

"It was exhilarating." Mary answered. "Matthew rides very well. He showed me places I'd never been." Matthew smiled.

"Really, Mary? How could that be? You know this estate better than any one of us, with all the riding you do." Edith countered in surprise.

Lord Robert spared Mary the bother of answering her meddlesome sister. His voice suddenly dominated the room.

"Now that everyone is here, I think it is time for a rather exceptional announcement…an announcement I'd say that has been long in coming." He paused for effect. "Lady Cora and I are so very pleased to tell you all that our beautiful daughter, the Lady Mary Crawley, is to be wed…to Mr. Matthew Crawley."

Cousin Isobel rose quickly from her perch. "Why, Matthew! You said nothing to me! My dear boy, congratulations!" She rushed to embrace her son. She turned to his fiancée. "And Mary, I cannot tell you how pleased I am." She grabbed Mary's hands and kissed her on the cheek.

"Thank you, Mother. Mary and I are very, very happy."

"Well, now, Matthew," the Dowager Countess uttered, "No one could certainly accuse you of acting precipitously. I trust this is not a trend. One only hopes that I shall still be above ground for the birth of your first child." She smiled at him broadly. "But this is happy news all the same."

"Thank you, Cousin Violet. I'd be remiss if I didn't acknowledge your role in the match." Matthew said discreetly to her as he took her hand. Cousin Violet reddened slightly. "Yes, yes. Thank you, Matthew; we shall speak no more of it." Matthew assisted the noble lady to her feet as dinner had just been announced. The small gathering trailed into the dining room.

Dinner conversation revolved around wedding plans. Lord Robert and his heir smiled helplessly at each other through much of the discourse. They contented themselves with the hearty meal and the fruits of the vine. By the dessert course, both Matthew and his progenitor were the better for the wine. But there was no doubt that the tone of the evening was festive and not a single person remarked upon their slight intoxication. Matthew's left hand slid beneath the table's edge and found its target: the yielding thigh of his consort. Mary started. She looked at him and widened her eyes.

"Mary, I must go to London the day after next."

"Oh? How long will you be gone?"

"For the day only. I had hoped you would accompany me. Will you?"

Mary was pleased. "I'll have to see."

"Is the pleasure of my company not sufficient enticement?" At that moment, Matthew was completely overtaken by all of the charms of her physical beauty, all the more for the wine that he had consumed. He leaned over to her and whispered, "Perhaps I should come by your room tonight to persuade you."

Mary replied coyly. "You can try. Downton Abbey is first and foremost a fortress of protection and sanctuary, Matthew."

"Is that a challenge?"

Mary looked at him gamely. "If you wish."

"Care to make it interesting?" Matthew's arched an eyebrow to her.

Mary laughed. "You have a pitifully short memory, sir. I remind you that you best not bet against me if you want to keep your shirt. You said so yourself."

Matthew was contenting himself with the grapes from a nearby fruit plate. He crunched on them merrily. "Well, you see, Mary, the big difference is that this wager does not involve horses. Secondly, it need not be for cash."

Mary tilted her head. "What shall the prize be then?"

"Well, it would have to be worth my while." Matthew popped another grape into his mouth, chewed and swallowed.

"A kiss then?" she suggested.

"Ah…but I've already had one of those." Matthew grinned at her, his eyes full of mischief.

Mary blushed and stared down at her hands as she toyed with the stem of her wineglass. "Is that no longer worth your while, Matthew?" she asked him. Her voice was soft.

He longed so much to kiss her just then. There was only one right answer. "Of course it is, darling."


	5. A Serious Conversation

Chapter Five – A Serious Conversation

Lady Cora touched her husband's hand lightly. "Robert, look at Mary and Matthew. Have you ever seen two people so very much in love?" Robert looked down the length of the table. The affianced couple was rapt in conversation with one another. They might have been the only two people in the room. Mary was laughing. Matthew would not take his eyes from her.

"I still can't believe it," replied Lord Robert. "I mean, we all knew it, didn't we? Perhaps after her break with Carlisle, it was only a matter of time."

"It may have been Mary's plans for America that finally brought Matthew to his senses. Whatever it was, let us be grateful. I've already sent a letter to my mother with the news."

"Will she be disappointed, I wonder?" Robert turned to Cora. "I fear she still hasn't forgiven me for having stolen your heart across the ocean, along with your dowry. She may have had a grand scheme to get Mary settled permanently in America. Her last laugh, if you will. " Robert smiled wryly and took a sip from his wine glass.

"I'm sure you're right," Cora sighed. "Thank God we're to avoid all that. I could not have borne having another daughter so far from home. Having Sybil in Ireland is bad enough."

Lady Cora soon rose and began the slow migration of the ladies to the drawing room. Lord Robert went to join forces with Matthew in yet another volley of alcohol. He sat down next to him.

"So, my dear chap," Robert began. "I'm not one to comment on affairs of the heart if it can be avoided. But I make an exception in this case. No other match for my daughter could have pleased me more." Robert tipped his glass to Matthew and took a drink.

"Thank you, Robert." Matthew's manner was unsettled. He shifted his glass of brandy from one hand to the other. "I appreciate your confidence. I love Mary very, very much. You must know that I will do everything in my power to keep her safe, to spare her any sorrow."

"Of course, Matthew. What is it? There's something on your mind."

Matthew's eyes were very serious and he spoke in earnest. "It's a delicate topic." He paused. "Perhaps I've had too much to drink. We might discuss it later. "

Robert's brow furrowed. "Please, Matthew. Continue."

Matthew took a deep breath and another drink. "Mary has given me her account of the events relating to Kamal Pamuk. She told you as well."

Robert was stunned but managed to reply, "Cora told me." He put his glass down and sat back in his chair. So Matthew knew. Lord Robert did not know whether to feel dismay or relief.

"Please understand," Matthew continued. "The episode means nothing to me. Your daughter is dearer to me than anything else on this earth. That will never change."

Robert regarded Matthew with compassion and respect. "I'm glad we are speaking of this. Do you know as well that Carlisle bought the story from Bates' wife? Then he used it to extort Mary's affections, to keep her bound to him?"

Matthew nodded. "And now that story hovers above her like the Sword of Damocles." He shifted his gaze to his glass. "Can you think of anything more despicable?" He looked up at Robert intently. "When he hears of my engagement to Mary, it may well be the tipping point. He will be more likely to publish now than not."

"True. Still I can't see a way out of it."

"Robert, that is my point exactly. I cannot be expected to stand idly by under these circumstances. When I think of Mary's despair as she told me of it..." Matthew clenched his jaw. He shook his head.

"Steady on, Matthew. An angry man does not, cannot think intelligently."

Matthew took another drink. "I want to meet with Carlisle. He has the wealth of a king so no amount of money will turn his head. I shall have to persuade him that publication of Mary's story will do him more harm than good."

Lord Robert set down his empty glass. "Matthew, I cannot say what I would do in your stead. But I will say this. Men like Carlisle don't respond well to threats. If you mean to have him listen to you, you will have to cater to his ego."

"I hope you can trust my motives, Robert. I think only of Mary and her happiness."

"Yes, of course." Robert put his hand on Matthew's shoulder. "No one could doubt it, my good man. You will keep me apprised?"

"I will. Now I'm afraid I must be off. My head is splitting. A function of the wine, I guess." Matthew smiled sheepishly and rose from the table. "Please make my excuses to Cousin Cora and Mary."

"I'm sorry for that. Shall we see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, I hope so." Matthew stopped suddenly. "Would you pass on a message to Mary for me? Just tell her that I've not forgotten our wager…inside joke, I'm afraid."

Lord Grantham smiled. "As fiancés, you're entitled. Goodnight, Matthew. And thank you."

Matthew made his way to the front entrance where Carson was waiting. The butler helped him with his overcoat and handed him his hat. "Thank you, Carson." Matthew put on one glove and patted his pocket for the other. "I'm afraid I'm missing a glove." Matthew looked about randomly on the ground. A distant bell rang.

"I have to see to that call, Mr. Crawley, but I will be back directly to lend a hand."

"It's all right, Carson. I can manage. Good night." Matthew watched him as he disappeared into the next room. Assuring himself of a clear path, Matthew slipped quickly down the hall and up the grand staircase.

Robert had rejoined the ladies. "I'm sorry, my dear Cora, but Matthew had to make an early exit. He sends his regrets."

Mary's heart sank. "Really, Pa-pa? Has Matthew left?"

"Yes," her father replied, "He dearly regretted having to leave but it seems he was not well, he had a headache. He asked me to remind you about your wager with him, Mary. Inside joke, apparently." Lady Edith and Lady Cora both turned to Mary expectantly.

"It's a bit of silliness, really." Mary smiled. She was sad, happy and puzzled all at once. "This afternoon, we challenged each other in a race. I won and it seems he wants to redeem himself."

"I think it's wonderful that Matthew is riding again," Cousin Isobel said brightly. "He needs to get out from under his books and files. I'm glad to see you getting him out there, Mary."

"Yes, of course," replied Mary.

"Mary, are you quite all right?" Lady Cora inquired of her daughter. "You look pale."

"I'm fine, Ma-ma. I'm just overtired. It's been quite a day." Mary looked to her father. "I hope you won't be disappointed if I turn in early."

"Not at all, dearest," answered her father. "I'll have Carson send for Anna."

After proper farewells were exchanged, Mary left the company of her family and climbed the stairs.


	6. The Prize

Chapter Six – The Prize

Finding Mary's room had been easier than he supposed it would be. He vaguely recalled the lay-out of the second floor from his convalescence. His memories of her from those times were bittersweet. At least four or five times, he had observed her leaving her room, so genteel. She would smile; they would exchange pleasant greetings. Such trifling events were unforgettable for him, although he had tried to forget them at the time, desperately. Stupidly, he had plagued himself for months with thoughts of her, despite his obligations to Lavinia. Now here he was.

Matthew opened the door quietly. The room was aglow in lamplight and the fire was burning brightly. Her scent lingered in the air, confirming the accuracy of his recollections. He closed the door softly behind him. He could feel his heart beating against his chest as he examined the room.

Matthew felt oddly sinister. Of all of the places on earth, this was the one place where he should not be found out. He walked up to her vanity and surveyed the colorful array of jars, hair combs and other trinkets. He selected a perfume bottle and examined it. He lifted the crystal stopper and placed his nose over the bottle, inhaling lightly. This was the one. He replaced the stopper and put the bottle down. He reached into his dinner jacket for his handkerchief. Very quickly, he placed a drop of the perfume on the thin cloth. The liquid spread quickly through the light cotton square. He replaced the bottle and returned the handkerchief to his pocket. Now he should have her scent wherever he goes. He smiled.

Matthew pulled out Mary's lucky charm from beneath his coat. He knew it was foolish to credit the toy with his return and recuperation from the War. All the same, he had guarded it zealously as if it held ancient powers. He placed it on her vanity next to her hairbrush. Matthew was very pleased with his machinations. He looked about the room for concealment. He found it among the drapes and adjusted himself perfectly beneath the heavy fabric. His vantage point was marvelous. He would have to remain as silent and as still as the grave.

Matthew's timing could not have been more precise. Within seconds, Mary entered her room. She closed the door and walked to the fireplace, unsheathing her arms from her gloves. Matthew's eyes scanned her slender figure; she was exquisite. Mary moved to her vanity and sat down. Reaching back, she lifted the ebony comb from her hair, placed it on the table. As she picked and lifted other hairpins, her dark hair fell in stages until it draped down her back and shoulders. She looked for her hairbrush. She paused, staring at the table. She raised her hand to her lips and looked about her. She picked up the stuffed toy and turned it around in her fingers. "Matthew?" she whispered. Silence.

There was a rap at the door. "Yes, Anna?"

Anna entered. "Please forgive me, m'lady. I was caught up in my letter-writing."

"It's quite all right." Mary stood up and left her vanity. She stood in front of Anna and gathered her brown tresses, bringing them forward. Anna began undoing the buttons down the back of Mary's gown.

"So you can keep a secret as well as I, Lady Mary." Anna smiled as she slipped the straps of the gown past Mary's shoulders and guided the gown to the floor. "I hear you're to be married," Anna continued. Mary stepped out from the trappings of her gown. Matthew beheld the commencement of the bedtime ritual with high anticipation. This was delicious. He bit on his bottom lip.

"Yes, Anna. It's true." Mary smiled uneasily. "I accepted his proposal last night. I wanted to tell you this morning. But I couldn't…not in the face of your misfortune."

"I understand, m'lady, I do. But we must keep moving forward. I'm so happy for you. You lost your heart to him long ago. It's only right that you should marry."

"It's true, isn't it? I've loved Matthew Crawley for longer than I can remember." She lifted her arms as Anna pulled the slip over her head. "I suppose I won't believe we're to be married until it actually happens." Mary stepped out of her heels. She bent her head and lifted her thigh slightly to undo her garter. Matthew swallowed. He was reminded of a statue he had seen once as a young boy. The naked figure had embarrassed him then. This was much different. Her arms, like her legs, were long and lithe with shy curves. The muscles in her arms and shoulders worked as she fiddled with the fastenings. Her skin was perfection in this light, the color of pale ivory with the luster of a pearl. His eyes followed her arms down to her thighs, so taut and smooth. He imagined running his hands on the outside of them, feeling their hardness while she straddled him. The blood rushed through the pit of his stomach and down to his nether regions.

Anna stood behind Mary and loosened the back laces of her corset. Mary began to unfasten her front clasps. The two women continued their banter but Matthew could no longer hear them. He could not think, could barely breathe. His craving for her was building fast. Anna removed Mary's corset and set it on the dresser.

Her breasts were sublime. He savored the opportunity to study them at his leisure. They were perfectly rounded, like globes of alabaster floating in a pool of milk. Her nipples were pink temptations. He remembered the taste of her breasts from the afternoon and how velvety the sensation. Anna arrived with Mary's nightdress and the private show ended.

"Anna, would you lock the door when you leave? I'm spent. I really don't want to be disturbed."

"Very good, m'lady. Sleep well." She was gone. The key scraped and clicked as Anna locked the door. Mary picked up her lucky charm and sat on the edge of her bed. She stared at it in wonder.

The rustle of the drapes drew Mary's attention. Matthew stepped from the shadows. He walked quickly to her, shedding his coat and dropping his hat to the floor. She stood up, her face the very essence of surprise. "Matthew, what…" He grabbed her around the waist with his left arm and drew her to him savagely. With his other hand, he grasped her neck and brought her lips to his. She yielded to him at once. Her mouth was open, docile. She pressed her soft curves against him, raised her thigh against his leg. As his lips journeyed down her throat, she sighed, "You win then."

He raised his head and looked at her. He was ravenous but he wanted to hold it in check, to revel in his lust for her. "Can I claim my prize now?" Matthew asked her softly. He brushed his lips against her cheek. She ran her fingers through his disheveled hair. He grabbed her hand and led her to the looking-glass. They stared at each other's reflections. Matthew positioned himself behind her. She started to turn her body to face him but he stopped her, bracing her softly by her shoulders.

Matthew did not need to speak. He placed his hands on her waist. Mary began to unravel the laces of her bodice. His eyes were fixed upon her fingers until she completed her undertaking. She put her arms to her side. Gently, Matthew spread the yoke of her garment down around her shoulders. He pulled on her nightdress until it fell in a heap around her feet. Matthew's breathing was heavier now, as he took in the sight of her. With his arms about her waist, he undid the drawstring of her undergarments and pulled on them until they fell off as well. She was fully naked. He stared at her wantonly, his mouth slightly open. She closed her eyes and leaned against him. She brought her arms up behind her and around his neck.

Matthew ran his hands over the silky contours of her thighs, over her hips and across her belly. He cupped the firm white globes of her breasts in each of his hands. He bent his head to her neck and grazed his lips down her throat and over her shoulder. Mary moaned softly as he gently squeezed and fondled her nipples. She reached behind her and felt for his swollen shaft. "No," Matthew whispered into her ear, grabbing her wrist. "You'll finish me off."

"You're not being fair, Matthew," she pleaded in a whisper.

"I'm still collecting my prize. I assure you. I am well within my rights." His gaze returned to the mirror, to her polished pale curves and lines. He relished the view of her writhing naked body in front of his formal dinner attire. He was her dinner guest after all and she had yet several courses to serve him. He watched his hands as they trailed a path over her breasts. He grabbed onto one and held firm while his right hand slid slowly down to the valley between her porcelain thighs. He slipped his hand into the heat of her crevice. He drew his breath in sharply when he came upon her creamy wetness. "God, you're lovely," Matthew whispered fiercely, his voice low in his throat. "You're driving me mad."

His fingers gently probed the wet and silky lips of her sex. Mary gasped and pushed her buttocks against his hips. His stiff hard manhood pressed against her lower back. Matthew's breath was hot and heavy in her ear. He found her swollen clit; it was enflamed and wet, the size of a berry. He let it slide very softly, gently, back and forth between his fingers. Mary's breathing had quickened. He watched her hips rock, her buttocks grinding against his shaft. "Let me taste you, my darling," Matthew begged, his lips in her hair. Mary turned around quickly and grabbing his hand, led him to her bed. She threw back the covers and sat on the edge. He sat beside her and they kissed feverishly, their tongues thrusting and licking. They fell against the bed linens. Matthew stopped to look at her. He touched her scarlet lips. "May I, Mary? I'll understand if you don't…"

"I want you to," she whispered, breathless.

Matthew lowered his head to her chest. His lips lightly brushed her nipples and the supple valley between her breasts. Mary curved her back. Matthew ran the tip of his tongue down the soft planes of her belly, his hands on her hips. He slid off the bed and placed himself between her legs. He felt he was in a dream. He skimmed the inside of her thighs with his lips, planting random heated kisses. He looked before him and drew in his breath. Her pussy was gleaming with the dews of her lust. Very tenderly, he kissed her hot silken folds. He licked his lips for his first taste. He was enraptured. Carefully, he spread her nether lips with his fingers until he found the plump that was her clitoris. He licked it lightly, teasing it out. Then he kissed it, licked it and kissed it again until finally he brought the succulent bud gently into his mouth.

Mary was in the throes of a peaking ecstasy. She wished he would consume her. She looked down and took in the marvel of his blond and tousled head between her thighs. He was positively rapacious. She pressed her mound into his mouth. Another suck and she would explode. Her body was tight, her thighs, contracted. She felt herself cresting a flaming wave. "Oh…oh…oh…" Mary gasped. Her hands grasped her bed sheets in tight fists. She was panting rapidly. Matthew felt the gush of her orgasm against his lips. Her thighs were trembling.

Matthew thought that he had never been as hard as he was now. He stood up and worked at the buttons on his pants and suspenders. Mary's eyes widened as she watched him. She loved this part; it was as if he would die if he could not penetrate her in that instant. He was immense. He slipped his swollen cock into her wet and quivering recess. They both gasped as he entered her and he whispered her name. He thrilled at the hot rush in his belly and his loins as he slid his shaft back and forth. It was so tight, hot and wet inside her. He closed his eyes and rode the crescendo of his bliss. He thrust deeply and pulled back slowly, trying to sustain it. "Matthew, oh…Matthew," Mary was gasping. The sound of her voice saying his name set him off. He climaxed, and she felt his shaft shudder and pitch inside of her. He bore down on her twice more, and then collapsed. She turned herself sideways and looked at him. He was sweating and his eyes were closed. She brushed back his hair from his face. He grabbed her hand, kissed her palm and placed her arm about his neck. She was more vibrant, more beautiful now than ever before. They stared into each other's eyes, both of them still basking in the headiness of their intercourse.

"So have I persuaded you, Mary? Will you come with me to London?"

"Yes, I'm persuaded," she replied softly, smiling. Mary brought her hand to his face and stroked his cheek.

Matthew perched himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. "How am I to leave you?" He kissed her, letting his tongue play along her top and bottom lips. He pulled away from her. "With enormous difficulty and a rash exercise of discipline," he answered himself. He sat up and pulled up his pants. He brought her the nightgown and instantly regretted it as she pulled it over her head.

"Must you leave?" Mary asked him. "Won't you stay…until I fall asleep?"

"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" Matthew replied, adjusting his pants. "Alas, we need to combine forces if I'm to get out of here undetected."

Mary pouted. "I shan't help you." She fell back on the bed. "Stay," she commanded.

Matthew pulled her up and gathered her to him. "After we are married, you will never be rid of me." He kissed her forehead. "Now off you go."

Mary slid off the bed and padded softly to her bedroom entrance. She twisted the lock on the door and opened it soundlessly, slipping out of the room to inspect the corridor. Within a minute, she returned and whispered, "Quickly, Matthew." He kissed her hastily on the lips and made his escape.


	7. An Undoing

Chapter Seven – An Undoing

At Crawley House the next morning, Matthew rose early despite his amorous pursuits with Mary of the prior evening. He believed that he had never slept so well since long before the War, before the nightmares, before his heartbreak with Mary so long ago. When he crossed the threshold of the dining room, his mother was there to greet him.

"Matthew, good morning, my dear! How are you feeling this morning?" she inquired with the appropriate dose of maternal concern.

"I'm fine, Mother," he answered, settling in. "Never better."

"Why, when you left early last evening, Cousin Robert said you had a headache."

"Quite right. I drank more wine than was good for me, I'm afraid." Matthew shot her a quick smile. Moseley poured his tea. "Thank you, Moseley." He picked up the newspaper.

"I'm glad it was nothing more than that. You must be pleased with yourself, having pulled the wool over my eyes so thoroughly yesterday. You gave me not the tiniest inkling of your engagement with Mary." Isobel smiled brightly.

"I rather think I surprised myself," Matthew replied. "You can give yourself some credit, Mother. You reminded me daily of my prospects with her."

"Yes, and you see, I was right all along," she replied smartly. Matthew grinned at her. His mother continued, "I'll be going up to the hospital shortly. Will I see you for luncheon?"

"Unfortunately, no. I have meetings at Ripon and then I'm going to try and see Mary early before dinner."

Isobel sighed. "Somehow I cannot imagine Lady Mary Crawley installed in this house. It doesn't seem grand enough for her."

"Mother…" Matthew started in a warning tone.

"Matthew, you know I'm very fond of Mary. I have no doubt of her genuine feelings for you. But think of it. She is used to a bevy of servants catering to her every whim day and night."

Matthew was matter-of-fact when he answered her. "We will, all of us, have adjustments to make. And we are all considerate rational thinking beings. I'm sure we will manage."

"I'm sure you're right," Isobel gave her son a perfunctory smile. "I'm off then. We'll see you at dinner." She kissed him on the cheek and left the room.

Matthew put down his newspaper and stared out of the window. Adjustments. He had never thought of the more practical aspects of his union with Mary. Things would fall into place, he assured himself. Everything else had up until now. He knew it was early still. But their relationship was so much more than tender sentiments or carnal appetites. It had proven itself, to him at least, to be a love so deeply entrenched in their natures that it would not be denied by any circumstance, no matter how great. They had both travelled a long, meandering and arduous path to get to this point. He felt enormously lucky yet he questioned that it was luck at all. It was simply meant to be and it would be, despite everything or anyone. He reached into the pocket of his tweed jacket, pulled out the scented handkerchief and held it to his nose. Enough, he thought to himself. He would see her later this afternoon. It was time to focus on other things. He folded his newspaper and set off for Ripon.

Lord and Lady Grantham sat in quiet contentment over their breakfast tea, each preoccupied by their respective dailies. They both looked up when Mary entered. "Good morning, Mary," her mother greeted her.

"Yes, good morning," Lord Grantham rejoined. "Did you sleep well?"

"Very well, thank you, Pa-pa," Mary replied. She graced them both with a broad smile.

"You look lovely this morning, Mary. Do you have plans?" Cora's eyes were bright as she addressed her daughter.

"Not really, Ma-ma. I had hoped that we could turn our minds to the wedding. There is so much to be decided," Mary replied. "I'm quite overwhelmed."

"First and foremost, there is the guest list. We can go over that later this morning, if you like," Cora suggested.

"Perfect," Mary answered. "Matthew and I are planning a day trip to London tomorrow. I will have time then to browse the shops."

Lord Grantham looked up from his newspaper. "You're going to London tomorrow with Matthew? Have you told him this?"

"Told him? He invited me," Mary replied in surprise. "Pa-pa, we're no longer children. Besides, I will probably spend more time with Aunt Rosamund than Matthew. He has business there."

"Not very pleasant business. I should think that you would not hazard revisiting Sir Richard Carlisle so soon," her father replied with caution in his phrasing.

"Whatever do you mean, Pa-pa? I can assure you we have no business with him." Mary sipped her tea. "And London is far too big to pose even the slightest concern over a chance meeting."

Lord Grantham said nothing further. He returned to his paper.

Mary paused. "You can't mean that Matthew's business is with Sir Richard?" she asked her father pointedly.

"It is not for me to say, Mary," her father answered. "You best discuss it with Matthew."

"Pa-pa, please," Mary appealed to him. "What has Matthew told you?"

Lord Grantham could not believe that he had wandered into this emotional minefield like a blind man. Thinking he might mitigate his damages, he tried to reassure her. "He is concerned for you, Mary. He means to meet with Carlisle to convince him not to publish the story."

Mary was dumbfounded. Lady Cora's mouth was agape. She turned to Mary, "Matthew knows of Pamuk? You told him?"

"I told him days before he proposed," Mary replied. "Not that it matters. He told me it meant nothing to him. Now I see that he was mistaken." Mary rose from her chair.

"Mary, you are mistaking his motives. Don't be angry," her father urged.

"Please excuse me." Mary did not look at either of them. She left the room quickly.

Lord Robert spoke first. "I know what she's thinking but she's wrong. Matthew is far above such pettiness. And Mary knows him better than any of us." Lord Grantham folded his paper and placed it beside his dinnerware.

"I think we may have underestimated the depth of her feeling," Lady Cora replied softly. "Mary has always hid her fears well. She may be worried that Matthew will have second thoughts."

"Then she doesn't know him at all," uttered Lord Robert.

"I'll give her time to sort her thoughts. Then I'll speak with her." She rose from her chair.

Lady Cora went to Mary's room within the half-hour. She was not there. Despite the best efforts of Her Ladyship and the servants, she was nowhere to be found.


	8. Damaged Goods

Chapter 8 – Damaged Goods

"Good day, Carson, how are you?" Matthew looked about the foyer as he entered. He had hoped Mary would greet him at the door. Lately, it seemed his principal aim in his life was to see her as soon and as often as possible. He needed to be with her.

"I'm well, thank you, sir." The butler helped him remove his overcoat. "His Lordship has been waiting for you. I've been instructed to take you to him at once." Carson's manner was hurried, anxious.

"What is it, Carson? Is something the matter?" asked Matthew. "Nothing serious, I hope?"

"I will let his Lordship explain, Mr. Crawley, sir."

Matthew kept pace with Carson as they hastened to the drawing room. "Mr. Crawley, m'Lord. Will there be anything else?" Matthew observed Lord and Lady Grantham to share the same grim expression. "Not for now, thank you, Carson," Lord Robert answered. "Matthew, good to see you."

"Yes, good afternoon. Good day, Cora," Matthew nodded to her. "Whatever's the matter?" Matthew raised his eyebrows. "Where's Mary?"

Lord Grantham exchanged glances with his wife. "We don't know where she is. Matthew, I assumed – wrongly, it appears – that you had told her of your plans to meet with Carlisle. I'm sorry about it but there it is. It upset her very much to learn of it."

"No one has seen her since then," Lady Cora added. "It's been seven hours." She walked to the nearest window and stared out onto the expanse of the gardens.

Matthew looked away, his eyes to the ground. He was shaken to his core. He took a deep breath. He looked back at Lord Robert. "She's not in the house. You're sure?"

"She's taken Diamond. She could be anywhere," Lady Cora answered him, her voice fraught with worry. "This is so unlike her, to leave the house without any word of her plans to anyone."

"I either hoped that she would have returned by now," Robert said, "or that, perhaps, she might have been with you."

Matthew brought his hand up to his forehead. His mind was racing. "I wish she had been. I haven't seen her since last night." He looked at the two of them. "She can't be far. I'll leave at once, while there's still light."

"I should go with you. We've a better chance between the two of us," said Lord Grantham.

"It's not necessary, I assure you. Your place is with Cousin Cora." Matthew spoke confidently. "Mary and I followed a well-worn path yesterday. She won't have strayed far from it. I will find her and bring her home. Trust me."

"I'll ring for Thomas. He can get Lynch to ready a horse for you. You can take mine." Lord Robert approached the bell pull.

"I haven't time for that, Robert. I can saddle a horse. Please excuse me." Matthew gave them each a final glance and quickly took his leave.

Once in the hallway, Matthew was immediately greeted by Carson. "You will need these, sir." He handed Matthew his coat and hat. "Follow me. I can show you the shortest path to the stables."

"You read my mind, Carson." Matthew accompanied the butler through an unfamiliar doorway and down a confined stairwell. It was the first time that Matthew had been allowed entry into the servants' passages. The bottom of the stairwell opened up to a different world. The corridors were narrow and gray. The eyes of the maids and menservants followed him as he passed. He smelled the kitchen first before he observed its ruckus. Finally, Carson opened the doorway leading to the back courtyard.

"You can find it easily from here, sir. See there," Carson motioned with his right hand.

"Thank you, Carson."

"Godspeed, sir."

"I will find her, Carson. Keep an eye out for us."

"You know I will, Mr. Crawley."

Matthew walked quickly to the stables. The air was fresh and cold. He tried to flesh out the reasons for Mary's extreme reaction. What could she be thinking? His failure to keep her fully informed could not explain this. Matthew could have charmed his way out of that slight, he was sure of it. His worst fear was that she was punishing herself yet again for an absence of discretion that was the damned Pamuk affair. How ironic that would be. It was the very reason he delayed telling her of his plans, to spare her further torment on that score. He saddled a spirited horse and within minutes, he was able to set out.

The sun was low in the sky by the time he reached the landing near the gamekeeper's cottage. He was relieved to see Diamond there, peacefully feeding on nearby grasses. He dismounted, tethered his horse. He made his way through the brush with solid strides. Matthew's heart rose to his throat as he neared the cabin. If she was not here, what were his other options? He had none. He squeezed the latch and pushed on the door forcefully.

The small room was cold and dark. She was lying on the cot – was she sleeping? He walked quickly to the small bed and sat down on the edge beside her. She was asleep and breathing quietly. Her eyes were closed, her lashes glistened. Her tear-stained cheeks were flushed. Her hair, having worked itself loose, framed her face in soft brown wisps and strands. Matthew was overcome with an infinite tenderness. What sadness was she hiding? Did he do this to her? He removed his glove and caressed her hair, her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered open. She looked up at him. "Matthew…how long have I been sleeping?" She started to shiver.

"I don't know, my darling. I've only just arrived." He stood up and took off his coat. "You are ice-cold." He covered her gently with the woolen garment. He sat down again. She stared into his steel blue eyes. She loved him so. She could feel her eyes well up and a single tear found its way to the edge of her cheek. She wiped it away hastily. "I must get back," she whispered. She sat up slowly. She was cold, so very cold.

"Mary, I'm so sorry. I meant to tell you..."

"Please, Matthew, I must get back. My mother and father must be beside themselves with worry." Mary pushed his coat to one side. She maneuvered herself around Matthew and stood up. "Thank you for coming to fetch me. I suppose I'm quite lucky that you found me before I froze near to death." She smiled nervously. She straightened her clothing and tried to fix her hair. "I must look a fright."

Matthew stood up beside her and grabbed her hand. "Can you forgive me, Mary? I know now that I should have told you."

She was weak and spent from heartache. She pulled her hand away. "It doesn't matter, Matthew." She shook her head. "None of it matters. You needn't worry. And I shan't hold you to your promise." She turned away from him and walked to the door. Matthew reached out and grabbed her arm. "Why do you say these things to me?" he entreated, "I don't understand it."

Mary refused to look at him. Tears rolled down her face. She prayed he would not see them. She wiped her face dry with her free hand. Matthew strengthened his hold on her arm and pulled her to him. He spoke to her slowly and with deliberation. "You're mad if you think I'm going to let you leave me." His voice was shaking.

Mary closed her eyes and swallowed. She pulled away from him. She grabbed onto the door latch in a feeble attempt to leave. He wrapped his arms around her. He buried his face in her hair. "Not again, Mary," he pleaded.

She held her ground. "Let me go, Matthew," she said in a whisper. "I am…damaged goods. Nothing you can do, nothing you can say to anyone, will ever change what I am." She turned to face him, her eyes shining with tears. "I am heading towards a firestorm. I will not take you with me. You don't deserve it."

"And you do?" Matthew looked down at her. Her face was still flushed but her lips were colorless. "Mary, you're not well." She was shivering uncontrollably now. He grabbed his coat and wrapped it around her and held her close. Mary felt the room was spinning. She collapsed in his arms.


	9. An Understanding

Chapter Nine – An Understanding

The night was black when they arrived at the house. They were astride Matthew's horse with Diamond tethered behind them. Mary lay against Matthew's chest, barely conscious. True to his word, Carson stood at the entrance of Downton Abbey as they approached. Mary was soon settled in her room and Dr. Clarkson had been summoned.

After the doctor had completed his examination, he joined the Crawleys just outside of Mary's bedroom. He closed the door quietly behind him. "It's nothing serious, although it might have been if Matthew had not found her when he did. It is a mild case of hypothermia and dehydration, nothing that a day in bed will not cure."

"May I see her?" asked Matthew.

"She's sleeping now, Matthew. You best wait until morning," Dr. Clarkson answered.

"Go home, Matthew. Get some sleep." Lord Grantham said to him.

"You're certain she's in no danger?" Matthew looked to the doctor.

"I'm quite certain of it. She'll be fine." Dr. Clarkson assured him.

"Shall I send for the car, Matthew?" Lord Robert asked him.

"No, thank you, Robert. I'd much rather walk. I'll see you in the morning then. Goodnight."

The cold night air was bracing and Matthew welcomed it. He needed to clear his head. That she would break off their engagement at all was unthinkable. But to break over a scheme of Carlisle's would be utterly preposterous. Surely he could make her see that. He had to make her see that because he could not now fathom a life without her. If she were to leave him, she would sail for New York. The break would be absolute and final. He wondered how he would survive it this time, having lived this dream of her for the past two days. His heartache would be unimaginable. He tried not to think about it but it followed him home like a specter.

The next day, Matthew woke up unsettled. Then his recollection of the prior day's events fell upon him. His morning rituals gave him some respite; they pre-occupied him and applied a veneer of normalcy to his day. At breakfast, he gave his mother a watered-down version of the events, omitting references to the Turk, to the possible rupture between himself and Mary. There was much that was left unanswered.

"So for reasons known only to her, Mary rides out and falls asleep in a cottage." Isobel gave her son a regard of pure disbelief. "That's nonsense, Matthew. What are you not telling me?"

"Mother, it's not my story to tell," Matthew set down his cup. "Besides it may no longer be our concern." He stared out the window.

"Not our concern? She is your fiancée and my future daughter-in-law." His mother went and sat next to him. "Matthew, you come downstairs plodding like a gravedigger. You tell me the oddest story of Mary running away." She rose from the table. "Are things settled between you and Mary or not?"

Matthew let out a sigh of resignation. One way or another, she would soon find out. Better that it should be from him than from a wretched daily published by that monster, Carlisle. "You'd better sit," Matthew advised her.

After he finished his rendition, Isobel did not appear the least bit shaken or surprised. "Things are never as they seem on the surface," she stated as a matter of fact. "When did you learn of this?"

"Mary told me several days ago before I proposed." He added, "If it had made a difference to me then, I would never have asked for her hand. She doesn't seem to think so."

"So you love her still?"

"Mother, I have always loved her. Almost from the very first day that I set eyes on her." He gave her a sideways glance.

"Very well, then," Isobel said as she rose from her chair, "Wait here." Within a minute, Isobel returned to the dining room. She dropped a small gray velvet case in front of Matthew. "What is this?" he asked her. Upon her urging, he opened it. The tiny box contained a gold ring bearing a oval garnet of scarlet red at its centre. The gem itself was encircled by tiny diamonds. It was elegant and flawless. Mattthew looked up at Isobel. "It's lovely. Wherever did this come from?"

"Your father gave it to me before we were married. It's a promise ring," Isobel answered. "It's been awhile since it fit me. I want you to have it, to give to Mary."

"That's a risky proposition, isn't it, in the circumstances?" questioned Matthew, his eyebrow arching slightly.

"I think not, Matthew," Isobel reassured him. "Anyone who has seen you and Mary together would have no doubts." She smiled. "You know, I had brought it out once or twice when Lavinia was here. She was a dear girl. Then something would happen to shake my confidence and I would squirrel it away again." She shrugged slightly and smiled.

"You're not shocked by Mary's conduct with the Turk?" Matthew asked her warily.

"Matthew, I was not born yesterday and neither were you. There are a good many skeletons in the bedroom closets of the upper class. We are none of us perfect." Isobel looked at him plainly. "Mary has proven her worth and character in other ways that have satisfied me."

Matthew looked at the ring one more time before closing its case. He was impressed by his mother's discretion and by her confidence in his future with Mary. He wished that he had the same degree of faith in Mary's love for him. But their record with one another had not been stellar. He was nervous.

"Now go fetch your coat," Isobel urged him. "You have business to tend to."

Carson greeted Matthew at the door and after relieving him of his coat and hat, quickly ushered him to the staircase. "I understand she's waiting for you, Mr. Crawley." Matthew acknowledged Carson with a nod of thanks and directed himself up the stairs. He could feel his heartbeat quicken as he approached her bedroom. He rapped lightly on the door. "Come in," he heard her say. He entered.

"Good morning, Mary," Matthew smiled faintly. "I hope you're feeling better?"

Mary was sitting up in her bed, supported by an assortment of pillows. Her dark hair was tied back by a length of red ribbon. The pale pink of her cheeks had returned and her lips were cherry red. It was quite obvious that she was waiting to see him and she had attended to some preparation for his visit. He could not tell if that was a good sign or a bad omen.

She nodded and smiled. "I'm better, Matthew. Thank you." She patted her hand on the bed. "Please come and sit."

Matthew's stomach was in knots. He went and sat down on the edge of her bed. Neither of them spoke. She reached out slowly and grabbed his hand. She pulled it toward her and began to lightly caress his fingers. She laced his fingers with hers and looked up.

"How are you?" she asked him softly.

He still could not fathom her intention. "Well, that depends," he answered.

"On what?" Her voice was quiet.

He pulled his hand away. "Mary, don't play with me. Yesterday, you asked me to break with you. And now you ask me how I am?" He stood up and paced across the room. He stared out the window. "What can you be thinking?" He shook his head.

Mary didn't speak.

He continued with an increasing degree of bewilderment. "We have shared things, done things to each other that only the most intimate lovers do. Does that not mean anything to you? " Matthew turned to face her. His eyes were dark, accusatory. "Do you want to me to end our engagement? Do you really?"

Mary's eyes welled up. "Don't be angry with me, Matthew, please."

He approached her, uttering, "I tell you this, Mary. I will not end it. If you want me to leave and leave forever, I will but you must tell me that is what you want. I will do as you ask." He turned from her and waited.

She spoke resolutely in hushed tones. "Matthew, once my story is published, I will be a pariah. You must ask yourself if you can live with that. Can you see yourself married to an outcast…a whore? Who knows what people will say about me, about you?"

"I see myself married to you." Matthew turned to face her. "What others may say means nothing to me. I know who you are. And I know who I am."

Mary rose from her bed and went to him. "Then you must know this…that you are the very air that I breathe. Do you think I said those things lightly yesterday as if they meant nothing? I feel as if my soul had been ripped out from my very core." She turned away from him in an effort to hide her tears.

Matthew grabbed her by her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. His manner was intense and focused. "Then you must never say such things to me again. Do not even think them. Do you understand me?" He let her go and dropped his arms to his side. He turned and sat down on the divan by the fire. He lowered his head into his hands and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked up. "Come here," he commanded softly. He held out his hand. She went to him and sat down. "So, are we agreed?" Matthew asked. Mary nodded wordlessly. She swallowed. "You must say the words, Mary," Matthew urged. "You must promise." He cradled her cheek in his right hand and lowered his lips to her mouth. He was poised to kiss her.

"I promise," she whispered.

"Go on," said Matthew, waiting. He scrutinized her hair, her eyes, her neck. He felt like an addict after the longest driest spell and she was his vice. His longing for her already consumed him.

Mary started again, "I promise never to say…" He kissed her lightly on the lips. "…or think…," he kissed her cheek. "…such things again." He kissed her neck and lingered there. "Ever," Matthew whispered against her throat. "Ever," she repeated, breathlessly, her eyes closed.

"All right then." Matthew murmured in her ear. His lips travelled back to her throat while his hand wandered slowly to her breast. As he squeezed her firm round flesh, he could feel her nipple stiffen against his palm through the thin cotton fabric of her nightdress. "Matthew, no…" she whispered, panting softly. "Anna will be here soon." Matthew stopped and looked up at her. "You're right," he said, licking his lips. "You must get back to your bed." Matthew looked out the window in an attempt to wind down.

Mary settled herself back against her pillows, fixing her hair, adjusting her gown. He smiled at her and sat down at her bedside. "I almost forgot. I have something for you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small gray velvet box. He grabbed her hand and placed the box in her palm. Mary smiled. "What is it?" she asked him, her eyes bright with pleasure.

"Open it," he replied.

She flipped the tiny case open and drew in her breath. "It's beautiful, Matthew."

"My father gave it to my mother and now, I'm giving it to you." He reached up to caress her hair. "Are you pleased?"

"What do you think?" Mary looked at him, smiling. She placed it on her ring finger and stared at it. "I love it, Matthew."

"Good. Then maybe later on tonight, you can show me how grateful you are." Matthew grinned. "Get some sleep. I will see you at dinner." He kissed her on the forehead. "I love you, Mary. More than anything." He closed the door quietly behind him. He felt sure that the storm had passed.


	10. Strategies

Chapter 10 – Strategies

It was quiet in the back courtyard after the clamor of the morning deliveries. The cobblestones were wet, slick and dirty. Thomas enjoyed the cold moist air of the late morning, almost as much as he enjoyed the warm sharp taste of his Woodbine cigarette. Life had been good to him since his dismal attempt in the black market. He was now the permanent valet to Lord Grantham. True, his ascension to the position had not been entirely honest. But Isis was no worse for wear. And he had to look out for himself, didn't he? Self-preservation was never a bad thing, particularly if you were a working class lad.

O'Brien approached him from behind and interrupted his mental assessments. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"They're worth more than a penny, aren't they, now? I'm valet to the Earl of Grantham." Thomas replied smugly.

"Don't be puttin' on airs with me." She took out a cigarette. Thomas was quick to give her a light. "Not unless you want to find yourself in my crosshairs." She took a quick drag off her smoke.

"So what about Lady Mary then? Did she throw him over?" asked Thomas, smiling to himself.

"She can't have been that daft. I saw Mr. Matthew here earlier for a visit." O'Brien replied. "She's lucky to have him, if you ask me. She's lucky to have anyone."

"Well, that's no thanks to us," Thomas remarked. He bided his time before he asked her, "Do you ever regret it?"

"Regret what?" challenged O'Brien.

"You know very well," Thomas said quietly. "If it weren't for us, no one would have been the wiser about that that Turk. It would have all blown over as quick as you please." He flicked his ashes and added, "She might have had her pick of a dozen princes."

"I suppose. Sometimes I wish I could undo things for Lady Cora's sake." O'Brien took another puff. "Other times, I'm of the mind that Lady Mary should enjoy her just desserts, the heartless minx." She tossed her cigarette on the ground. "Anyway, there's nothing to be done about it now."

"Isn't there?" Thomas asked but it was more of a statement than a question. "If you could, Mrs. O'Brien, wouldn't you set it straight? If only to spare Her Ladyship a scandal?"

O'Brien didn't reply right away. But, she told herself, it was food for thought. Her debt to Lady Grantham was one that she could never repay. She took one last drag from her cigarette and tossed it off against the wet stones. Thomas did likewise. "We'll see about it," she finally countered. "I'll do my diggin' and you do yours. Between the two of us, we may come up with something."

O'Brien did not have to wait long before she arrived at her first opportunity to unearth information about Lady Mary. Her mistress had social visits in Ripon in the afternoon. The preparations would be rigorous since Her Ladyship wished to make an impression. That meant O'Brien would have that much more time to extract the most pertinent details from her. Not that she needed the extra time. It was O'Brien's special talent that she could coddle and finagle news and manoeuvres from Her Ladyship in a matter of minutes.

O'Brien chose her moment as Lady Grantham sat at her vanity, putting the final touches to her hair. They were trying out a number of different combs and ornaments. "The staff were very concerned last night, m'Lady, with Lady Mary gone for so long and arrivin' in such a state," O'Brien began.

"Thank you, O'Brien." Lady Cora nodded. "It was awful."

"She's all right, then?"

"Yes, she's fine, thanks to Cousin Matthew," her mistress replied.

"That's a grace, isn't it, m'Lady? The marriage is to go forward." O'Brien smiled graciously at her.

"Of course, it is. Why wouldn't it?" If it was possible for Lady Cora to scowl, she managed it then.

"I'm sorry, m'Lady, truly I am. But the entire staff is aware of the ill-founded rumours circulatin' in London and elsewhere." O'Brien continued her ministrations. "But certainly, those aren't in play anymore, what with Mr. Crawley and Lady Mary's engagement."

"If only that were true," Lady Cora fiddled with the cluster of combs before her on the vanity. "I'm afraid Sir Carlisle may still wreak some havoc." Her lips set themselves in a firm straight line.

O'Brien's face showed not the least bit of surprise at the mention of the older gentleman. "Lady Mary never really gave a care for him, m'Lady, you can be sure of it. He's no threat to Mr. Crawley."

"That's not what I meant," Lady Cora sighed. "He's a newspaper man, O'Brien. Rumours and scandal are his bread and butter." She looked at herself in the mirror. "Thank you, O'Brien. That's perfect." She rose from her vanity for the next stage in her preparations. Lady Grantham didn't need to say anything more. O'Brien had what she needed.

By the end of the day, Mary was quite herself again. All the same, she took extra care in her preparations for Matthew's return. She chose a red sleeveless gown, hoping it would add some color to her cheeks. She stood before the mirror. It brought to mind his first visit to her room. Her white naked curves against his black dinner jacket. The warmth of his hands on her breasts, his lips against her throat. A heated surge rushed from her centre down to that cleft between her thighs. The sensation was lush, hot and delicious. He would come to her again tonight. She would see to it.

Mary stood at the door with Carson as Matthew and his mother entered the Abbey. "Cousin Isobel, so happy to see you," Mary said as she kissed her on the cheek. She turned to Matthew and grabbed his hand. "You look well, Matthew."

"I should say that to you," Matthew replied, "Although you look a great deal more than well." Mary felt his eyes traverse her face and body. She so hoped that she pleased him.

"Mary, I hope you're feeling better?" asked Cousin Isobel.

"Much better, thank you, Cousin Isobel," replied Mary with a smile.

Matthew interrupted their exchange. "Would you excuse us, Mother? I have something rather important that I wish to discuss with Mary."

"Certainly, Matthew," Isobel replied and she turned to Mary and smiled. "Mary, we'll talk later. Be sure that we do." Isobel followed Carson to the drawing room. Matthew grabbed Mary's hand and led her to the north library. Once in private, Matthew turned to her, "You are absolutely captivating tonight, Mary," and with his hands at her waist, he pulled her to him. Mary wrapped her arms around his neck and their lips met in a long and sensuous kiss. "You have plans," he whispered against her lips, "I can tell."

She ran her hands down his chest and under his dinner jacket. "The seduction of Matthew Crawley," Mary replied softly, looking up at him. She placed her hands on his hips and pressed herself against him.

"Mission accomplished." Matthew smiled. He grabbed her hands. "Come and sit with me," he said and led her to the nearest divan. Matthew held her hands in his. "I've spent the afternoon thinking about us, about our future." Mary tilted her head and looked into his eyes expectantly. He continued, "I've decided. I cannot wait until June to marry you." He searched her face for some sign of agreement. Mary's lips broke into a shy smile.

He looked down at her hands. Her fingers were so soft, elegant and slender. She wore the ring he had given her earlier that day. The gems sparkled and the garnet seemed a darker red against the paleness of her skin. "When I am away from you, I long to be with you. And when I am with you, I dread the moment when I have to leave you." He shrugged his shoulders. "I have never felt this way with anyone. I guess I always suspected that it would be like this. With you." He looked at her. "So there it is. Then there is that other matter."

"Other matter?"

"Mary, I know you do not want to think about it, much less talk about it." He stood up and walked to the window. "I can't help it. Even now that he's gone, he has this power to torment you. It's maddening. I want to wring his bloody neck." He turned and looked at her. "I'm sorry, Mary."

"Don't be." She joined him and linked her arm with his. "I'm quite over it, you know. You've made me stronger. I feel like I can face anything now as long as you're with me."

Matthew turned to her. "That may be and I'm happy for that. But our marriage will send him a message. You are out of his reach. His threats are meaningless. He can't hurt you any longer." He put his arms around her waist. "So let's do it, Mary. Let us be wed as soon as we can."

"I agree," Mary replied with a sure smile. "I think that's a lovely plan."

"I hoped you would agree." Matthew reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded paper.

"What is that?" Mary asked him.

"What do you think it is? It is our marriage licence." Matthew grinned. He gave it to her and she opened the folds to read it. Mary brought her hand up to her mouth. There was no doubt of her pleasure. She returned the paper to Matthew. It was one step closer to a reality that she never dared dream of.

"So when are we to marry?" she prompted. Her smile was radiant.

"In four weeks?" suggested Matthew. "That will allow for the publication of the banns. We can be married on the fourth Sunday." He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it.

"Four weeks it is then," rejoined Mary, smiling still. "Ma-ma will go into shock." She laughed. She placed her hands about his neck, leaning back and pressing her lower torso into his hips. "Come to my room after dinner," she said to him demurely, "We can celebrate."

Matthew looked down at her, smiled and said nothing.

"Matthew?" she chided.

He held her gaze and grasped the back of her neck in both of his hands. What power she possessed over him. Did she even realize it? He lowered his head to hers. "Would you like me to come to your room after dinner?" he asked her softly. Then he kissed her. His tongue slipped between her lips and ran along the rim of her teeth. Mary felt faint with desire. She melted her curves against the hard straight lines of his body, her hands on his shoulders. Matthew slid his hands down her back, stopping at the side of her hips. He pressed her against him as they kissed. He was already hard. She caught her breath. "Yes, Matthew."

The dinner gong sounded. Matthew touched his forehead to hers. "We'll see." He took her hand in his and led her out of the library.


	11. Bitter and Sweet

Chapter 11 – Bitter and sweet

When Matthew and Mary entered the dining room, everyone was already settled. Matthew sat between Lady Cora and Lady Edith, while Mary placed herself by her grandmother and Cousin Isobel. "Thank heaven, "said the elderly Countess light-heartedly, "We were on the verge of sending out a search party." She smiled at Mary and whispered to her, "Your betrothal to Matthew becomes you, my dear." Mary unfolded her napkin and threw a sparkling glance towards her granny. "We have good news," Mary told her. "I hope it pleases you."

The Dowager Countess directed her attention to Matthew across the table. "News again?" she uttered, "Cousin Matthew, your propensity for drama astounds me. You have chosen the wrong profession."

The younger Mr. Crawley obliged her. "The good news is that Mary and I have hastened our wedding plans. We will marry in four weeks' time." He looked to Mary and met her gaze. Her eyes were aglow.

Lady Cora gasped. "You cannot be serious. Mary, that is impossible!"

Mary smiled at Matthew. She was the very pith of calm and self-assuredness. "Ma-ma, at one time, I may have agreed with you. But Matthew has convinced me. We will not be swayed." She did not move her eyes from Matthew's gaze. She sensed a lovely ache in her depths.

"I say this is wonderful news," said Lord Grantham.

"Yes, it is wonderful news," Cousin Isobel echoed. "And many hands make light work. It can be readied in four weeks easily." She looked to Lady Grantham for agreement.

"I suppose," Cora said with a high degree of disfavour in her tone. "Why, Mary? June is the perfect month for a wedding. We might have hosted the reception in the garden." Her disappointment was tangible.

"Ma-ma, be grateful that we are not run off to marry in Dublin," Mary said, laughing. "It doesn't bear further discussion. Our decision is made."

"Yes, it is," Matthew concurred. He was happy to be seated directly across from Mary if he could not be beside her. He watched her as she chatted easily with his mother and her grandmother. She seemed to be the great facilitator between the two, a role that was not easily achieved. He marvelled at the length of her neck, and the willowy elegance of her arms. The dinner candlelight played against her hair, her eyes and the lustre of her skin. He wanted to touch her, to let his hands run along her throat, her shoulders, to feel the small curve of her back against his fingertips. He thought of their last evening together. Totally unclothed, her body was lush with pleasures and her surrender to him was transcendent. A hot swell of desire filled his core. As if on cue, Mary looked at him and smiled. He was powerless. He knew then he would do whatever necessary to have her tonight.

"Don't you agree, Matthew?" Lady Edith's voice broke into his reverie.

He was reluctant to disembark from his train of thought but he answered her, "I am sorry, Cousin Edith. What were you saying?"

"I was just saying to Ma-ma how a church wedding would have so much more meaning than one here at the Abbey."

"Mary and I haven't discussed it." He sipped from his wineglass.

Edith continued. "You do recall them, Matthew? You must agree. We really do have the loveliest chapels in the county." She added quietly, "Although perhaps in Mary's particular case, it would not be quite appropriate to be married in a church setting." She sipped her wine.

"I beg your pardon?" Matthew turned to her.

"Edith!" her mother whispered to her harshly. "What are you saying?"

"I only meant that Mary prefers to do things in such grand fashion. A wedding in small country chapel may not suit her at all." Lady Edith allowed herself the faint hint of a smile.

Matthew looked quickly to Mary to see if she had overheard their exchange. He was content to see that she was still animating the conversation between the two matriarchs. "I know very well your meaning, Cousin," Matthew told Edith. "Such incivility doesn't suit you." He took another sip from his glass. He set himself to cutting his meat on the plate before him. "I know that you and Mary have a bitter relationship. I can't say that I understand it."

"It's not your business, Matthew," Edith replied coldly. "It is a wound that is old and deep."

"But it is my business, Cousin Edith. Anything that affects her welfare is my business." He looked at her. "You and I are friends. But I cannot suffer any disrespect towards her."

Mary looked at Edith and Matthew in conversation. Matthew looked displeased. She wondered what had transpired. He was so far away and this dinner service was interminable. She stared at him from across the wide expanse of the table. She hated this distance between them. She watched him as he brought a piece of steak to his mouth. She remembered a time not so long ago when she had to stop herself staring at him, from even looking in his general direction. Now she was able to eye him as much as she pleased without guilt or censure. And he was so very pleasing to look at. His blue eyes were her primary weakness. Often when he stared at her, she felt naked, laid bare and she could see his appetite for her. She could not deny him anything when he looked at her like that.

Right then, it came to her that she must hatch a plan before the end of the evening. There had to be some foolproof method of getting him to and from her room without discovery. Anna knew what it was to crave after a lover. Surely she would help her.

"The ring looks lovely on you, my dear," Isobel Crawley broke into her thoughts. "I see that it fits perfectly."

"Cousin Isobel, it is truly a perfect fit, a perfect ring." Mary answered and looked at it. "I can't tell you how much it pleases me to know its origin. Will you tell me more about it?" Mary asked her.

The Dowager Countess peered from Mary's left. "My, my, that is lovely. A present from Matthew?" she queried.

Mary answered, "Yes, but it is much more than that. It has been passed to me from Cousin Isobel." She smiled at her.

"My late husband gave it to me many years ago upon our promise to marry," Isobel explained. "We were young and very much in love, much like you and Matthew. Luckily, we had fewer obstacles."

"I think we can safely say that no other couple has weathered the intensity of storms that you have, Mary, my dear," ventured the Dowager Countess.

Isobel continued, "I met Edward Crawley in London. He was a still an intern and I was already working as a nurse at a small branch hospital." Isobel looked down at her wedding ring. "He cut quite a handsome figure. I fell for him instantly. I see so much of him in Matthew." She looked at Mary and continued, "I don't think that Edward ever dreamed that Matthew would be next in line to the Earl of Grantham."

"Or that he would be fiancé to his daughter, I imagine," added the Dowager Countess blithely.

"Grandma-ma, make no mistake," Mary reproached her. "It is I who has won the prize."

"I hardly think that Matthew sees it that way, Mary," Isobel countered.

"Well, then, we're perfect for each other," Mary replied, smiling coyly.

Following the lead of Lady Grantham, the three ladies rose and headed into the drawing room. Mary fell back and drew the attention of Carson with a wave of her hand. "Carson, would you send for Anna for me, please? I shall wait for her in the hallway."

"Right away, m'lady."

Mary stood outside of the drawing room waiting for Anna to appear. Anna soon emerged from the servants' passageway. "M'lady, you sent for me?"

"Yes, Anna. I have a favour to ask of you," started Mary.

"A favour?" Anna was curious. This was not a request in the ordinary course of business between a mistress and her servant.

"I know that's rather mysterious." Mary hesitated. "I hope you don't think that I'm taking advantage."

Anna smiled. "As long as it not illegal, m'lady, I am fairly certain that I can be of some assistance."

"Illegal, no," Mary smiled back. "Maybe not quite within the straight and narrow course, I'm afraid."

Anna did not reply. Lady Mary was without her usual coolness and it was unsettling.

"The thing is, Anna, I would like to see Mr. Crawley tonight privately...in my room. It is after all the only venue that affords us any privacy." In low tones, she added, "Before you say anything, I am well aware that my parents would not approve."

"M'lady, I appreciate your confidence, I do. But are you quite sure that this is what you want?" asked Anna. Her eyes looked directly into Mary's.

At that moment, Lady Grantham exited the drawing room. "Mary, we're waiting for you, dear. I thought we might get started on the guest list this evening, before the men join us."

"In a moment, Ma-ma," Mary answered her. She turned again to her maid. "I am sure, Anna. Will you help?"

"What can I do?" asked Anna. Very quickly, Mary gave Anna her instructions. Anna smiled and replied, "That is easy enough." Mary grabbed Anna's hand in hers. "Thank you, Anna. I will not forget this." She hurried to join the others in the drawing room.


	12. Making Love

Chapter 12 – Making Love

Mary's heart was pounding as she walked into the drawing room. Her request to Anna had felt more like a confession, an admission of wrongdoing. Until now, she had never stopped to ponder the clandestine nature of her trysts with Matthew. It seemed so natural. How could it be wrong? Yet every other sensibility told her that it was wrong. It was illicit and primal. Her anticipation for him overwhelmed all of her senses. She could barely keep up with the women's conversation despite its lively focus on her wedding preparations. She held her own by nodding at the expected intervals and making good use of her glass of pear brandy. Otherwise her mind was elsewhere. Finally, the men arrived. She was relieved and enervated at once. She immediately rose to meet him and they stood together by the doorway.

"So did you enjoy the company of Ma-ma and Cousin Edith?" she asked lightly.

"Of course. But I much preferred the view to the conversation," replied Matthew with a smile.

"I'm not surprised," Mary said. "Edith is hardly the source of anything that might be considered stimulating."

Matthew's eyes narrowed. "Mary Crawley, you can be quite pitiless. I hope I never find myself on your wrong side."

"I can't see that happening. You have always managed to find my right side." She smiled at him and took a sip from her glass.

"Who knows which side I will find myself on this evening? The night is young." He grinned at her.

"It is," Mary replied. "Have you given my invitation any further consideration?"

"Yes, I have," he said, feigning thoughtfulness. "Can you guess at my answer?"

"I can't tell you. But you've taken a long time to decide." Mary's eyes were dancing. She added, "Perhaps I should withdraw my invitation after all."

"You see, you can be pitiless where I'm concerned," Matthew declared softly.

She reached out for his hand. "Not a chance, darling," she whispered. "Follow my lead."

He was intrigued. Mary led him to her father's side. "Pa-pa, Matthew and I are headed to the library. We're in an argument that can't be resolved without further resources."

"I love a good debate. What is the question?" Lord Grantham asked deliberately.

"Jane Austen and her perspective on British feminism." Mary told him brightly. "We have some of her volumes in the library, don't we? Or do you have some insight on the topic?"

Lord Grantham laughed. "You know very well that I do not. Go on then."

"Thank you, Pa-pa. Please make our excuses."

Mary and Matthew made their way out of the drawing room. Once out in the hallway, Mary turned to him, "Quickly." Together, they walked with haste through the main hall. She led him to the staircase and they paced quickly up the stairs and down the corridor to her room. She opened the door and pulled him into her bed chamber. Mary shut the door behind them and fastened it. Matthew put his arms around her and pulled her close. "Mary, you know I cannot stay long."

"All that matters is now," she said breathlessly. Draping her arms around his neck, she opened her mouth to his. The invitation was irresistible. He thrust his tongue in between her lips. Her breath was fast and sweet. He opened his mouth wider, forced his tongue deeper. He wanted to consume her. He pressed her against him. Everything that he ever wanted from a woman was in his arms. He had no will of his own.

She broke from him and pulled away. "Come here," she directed. Matthew laughed. "Mary, you're teasing me." Mary grabbed his hand and led him to the divan. She seated him and said softly," Close your eyes, Mr. Crawley. And do not open them until you're told." Matthew closed his eyes and smiled, "What are you up to?"

Mary went to her vanity. Carefully, she undid her hair until it fell like ribbons of brown silk about her shoulders. Seconds passed. Matthew heard clicks and the rustle of fabric. She returned to him soundlessly. "Eyes closed," she reminded him softly. She stood between his legs and pulled her skirt up slowly until it lay against his knees. She grabbed his hands and led them under her dress to the bareness of her thighs. Matthew caught his breath. He laid his palms flat against her skin. He had waited an eternity for this. He felt the blood's rush to his penis. Matthew and Mary were still, neither of them able to believe the bliss that one touch could bring. "Kiss me," Matthew commanded as he stroked the length of her legs. Mary framed his head with her hands and brought her lips down to his. Matthew could barely breathe as he caressed the soft rounds of her ass. Her lips yielded to his like butter but she tasted like a pear. He let his lips linger on hers, his tongue reaching and licking the inside of her mouth. He was breathless. She was delectable.

Mary swallowed. "Matthew, do I please you?" Matthew opened his eyes and looked up at her. She was unbelievably beautiful. Her long dark hair fell wantonly about her face and shoulders. Her eyes were a depth of brown that led to blackness. Her cheeks held the blush of pink and her lips, dark red. "You are exquisite, Mary," he said, "I want you in my mouth. At once. I must have you."

She stared deeply into his eyes. He had that look she craved. "Yes. You must," she agreed, panting gently. She lifted her skirt above her hips and raised her right leg onto the edge of the couch. She closed her eyes as he took her into his mouth. She felt the wet heat of his tongue between her cleft, his breath hot around her mound. His hands cupped her buttocks firmly and she leaned against them, pushing her sex forward. She felt herself cream. "Oh my," she whispered. He kept at her, flicking her clitoris with his tongue. He was relentless, licking her and sucking her. The fever between her thighs was surging. She could feel herself teetering on the edge of a full and complete surrender. She pulled away quickly. "Not yet, Matthew," she uttered breathlessly. He pulled her back to him, "Please, Mary. I can never get enough of you." His eyes were pleading and his lips were wet and parted.

She stumbled back from him and Matthew stood up. She was sweating, her mouth was open. "Then you shall have more of me," she promised. She turned her back to him and gathered her hair in front of her. Following her prompt, Matthew began undoing the buttons down the length of her gown. He could barely restrain himself from ripping the sateen dress off her body. Matthew placed his lips against the nape of her neck. She felt his tongue travel slowly down and across her shoulders. He pulled the straps of her gown down over her arms and she pulled her gown down further until it folded to the floor. Still behind her, Matthew wrapped her in his arms. "Enough," he said firmly. His breathing was fast and heavy. "What are we doing? Anna will be here soon." He nestled his face in her hair.

"No, she won't." Mary turned to face him. She grabbed him by the waistline of his pants and began to undo them. Matthew grabbed her hands. "Mary, we must stop. Anna will be here and you are already half-dressed."

Mary smiled and said softly. "I told you. She's not coming. Not tonight."

Matthew looked at her, clearly puzzled. "What are you saying, Mary?" He pulled her closer to him.

"I'm saying that I love you and that I took every possible precaution to be with you," Mary said softly. "Now be a good boy and let me do as I please." Mary smiled at him and grabbed the rim of his pants.

Matthew was stunned at first. He watched her fingers as she undid the buttons of his pants. He set himself to removing his tailcoat and threw it onto the divan. He pulled apart his necktie and unbuttoned the length of his shirt and vest. As he continued to disrobe, Mary reached down into his pants and into his briefs. She looked up at him as she grabbed his cock. "Oh, Matthew, you're enormous," she whispered. She began stroking him, her fingers sliding easily up and down his rod. Matthew was overcome. "My God, Mary," he breathed. She lowered herself to her knees before him. She pulled his cock down toward her mouth and looked up to him. She wanted him to watch. He looked down at her and swallowed. Her mouth enveloped his cock like a sheath. He moaned. He could not believe this was happening. It was a vision. Matthew closed his eyes. With his cock still engaged, she grabbed onto his hips to steady herself. She took him in again. Matthew moaned and placed his hands around her head. He began to rock his hips, sliding his shaft back and forth in her hot mouth. His breathing was heavy and rapid. Mary lifted her head. He looked down to her and said, "Stop, Mary."

Mary stood up and threw her arms about his neck. Their lips met in a frenzy of lust. Matthew gathered her in his arms and laid her down on her bed. He finished his undressing and came to her. He sat down at her bedside and grasped at the top of her corset. Slowly, he began to undo her. Mary stared at his eyes as he unwrapped her like a chocolate. She brought herself up on her forearms. She wanted to kiss him but he was intent on his task. He threw her corset aside and surveyed her. Mary watched him. He had the eyes of a beast of prey.

Matthew placed his hands on her breasts and began to massage them gently. They were so firm, so round and smooth. With his hands acting in tandem, he fingered her nipples. Mary closed her eyes and arched her back. He bent down to her and took her right breast into his mouth. His tongue swirled around her nipple and played with it gently. "Oh, Matthew," Mary breathed, "Don't stop ever." He began to suck on her nipple gently until it was fully stiff and erect. He then turned his tender attention to her left breast and its soft pink tip. She was writhing with pleasure.

Matthew buried his face between her breasts and with his hands, pushed the flesh of her mounds into his cheeks, his fingers grasping at her swollen nipples. "Mary, forgive me when I say this," Matthew whispered hoarsely, "But I will die if I cannot fuck you in this instant." Mary stared down into his eyes. There was something there that she had never seen. "Please fuck me, Matthew," she begged. "I am yours now and always will be."

Matthew shifted his body forward over her and balanced his weight against his left arm. Mary spread her legs. With his right hand, he brought his cock to her slit. He closed his eyes and rubbed his swollen knob against the edges of her enflamed labia. Mary whimpered. "You are the tease, Matthew," she breathed. He did not hesitate any longer. He thrust himself into her tight wetness. Mary moaned softly. He went deep with his cock and pulled back slowly. Mary moaned again. "You are so massive," she whispered. He thrust again. She gasped. He pulled back and relished the feeling of oncoming rapture. Again and again, he penetrated her tight and creamy puss. He could no longer hold himself back. He began to pump her with his cock like a piston. Mary spread her legs further apart and raised her hips to meet him. "Oh...oh...oh," she moaned. "Oh, Matthew, fuck me." Her body was contracted into a thin hot edge and she was falling over it. Matthew felt her quiver beneath him. She was done. He continued to thrust into her. How wet, how hot, how tight she was. He looked down at her. Her face was flush and sweating with her pleasure. She was so beautiful. He cried out. His orgasm consumed him. His penis thrust against her one final time and quivered within her. Matthew groaned. He let himself fall beside her. He reached for her. He was too weak for words. They lay together, spent.

After a brief reprieve, he spoke. "Mary, have you ever looked into the sky at night?"

She turned her head and found his gaze. "Of course I have."

"What did you see?" he asked her softly.

"I saw a million stars...in a sky with no beginning and no end." She looked into his eyes.

"That is my love for you," he whispered. "Don't ever forget it."

He rose from her bed and began to dress.


	13. A Second Helping

Chapter 13 – A Second Helping

She sat up. "You can't leave now, darling," she spoke softly. "We'll be found out." Mary was still unfamiliar with her body's response to their passions. She felt a slight fatigue yet her muscles were singing. She sensed a soft burn between her legs and savoured it. She folded her knees up to her chin and hugged them.

Matthew looked to her. He looked to the clock on her mantel. He was uncertain. "I suppose you're right. My mother will have questions. How do we explain it?" He turned to her again.

Mary gave him a faint smile. "I should have told you. I asked Anna to intervene and give our excuses. You left early and I retired shortly afterward." She moved to the edge of the bed and dangled her legs over the side. "I hope that's all right." She looked up at him for approval. She smoothed her hair and gathered it to one side.

He put down his shirt and walked over to her. "That was rather crafty." He sat beside her. She turned to him and they kissed. Mary whispered, "Anna will signal me when everyone is retired." She brought her hand up to his neck. "Then I shall let you go." She caressed his throat softly, and then led her fingertips slowly down his shoulder. She rose and in one graceful movement, she was straddling his hips, her legs folded to either side of him. Her lips sought his again. He ran his hands up and down the front of her thighs and along the sides of her calves. She buried her fingers in his hair, her mouth locked on his. They lost themselves in their embrace, Mary gripping him between her thighs, Matthew's hands about her buttocks.

When Mary lifted her head, her breathing was shallow. "Matthew, what we're doing...is it wrong?" she asked him quietly. Matthew moved his lips to her throat. He took his time. "Wrong in what sense?" he whispered. He ran his hands up and down her back and stared at her breasts. He began to caress them.

"In every sense," she replied breathlessly. Her blood was running hot. He was kissing her breasts softly and randomly. She felt herself creaming and wanted him inside of her. "Do you love me?" he asked her gently. He was aroused and under her spell yet again.

"You are my whole life, Matthew," she murmured. She slid her hands down his shoulders, down the muscles of his arms.

"Then everything is as it should be," Matthew said softly. "Think, Mary, how long we have already waited for each other." He looked up to her. His lips were parted. She placed her open mouth over his and their tongues met. This kiss was softer, less urgent than the others. It held the tenderness of years of devotion, separation, loss and longing. They lingered in each other's mouths. Matthew's hands wandered down her back; his fingertips followed the length of her spine. He broke from their kiss and breathed her name. Mary pleaded softly, "I want you, Matthew." She raised herself up. He directed himself to the edges of her slit. As she lowered her thighs, he filled her up. She gasped at the hot swell of pleasure and desire flooding her belly, thighs and vagina. Her eyes met his. Mary's eyes were wide, deep, and almost desperate. "Are you all right, Mary?" he whispered. She nodded. She began to sway her hips slowly. It was perfect. With each movement, she could feel his swollen shaft reaching, pushing and throbbing.

Matthew reclined, forcing his rod deeper still. He reached for a pillow and placed it behind his head. She put her hands on his chest and continued to rock her hips. She held his gaze. Matthew's eyes were icy and constant. She felt the intensity of his stare and it thrilled her. She remembered their dance on the night of the Spanish flu. Matthew had wanted her then too. And here they were now, dancing again at last. "Oh, my darling," she breathed. She leaned back on her arms and continued to swing her hips. Matthew was enthralled. Mary's figure was resplendent as she rocked on him. Her torso was an undulating slender and lusty curve. Her hips made a smooth arc to her waist and her breasts bobbed as she swayed. He reached out for her, grabbing her waist. He slid his hands down onto her haunches and he pulled down on her as he raised hips."Oh!" Mary gasped.

Matthew continued to work Mary's hips, pushing and pulling. He could feel his cock reach into her and draw back. Each stroke sent a surge of heated lust into his loins, greater than the last. Mary's head was back, her long dark hair grazing his legs. Her breasts were high and peaked. "Mary, come to me," he commanded gently. She pulled herself up and bent over him. She went for his lips and they kissed. Matthew cupped her breasts in his hands, her nipples peeking through his fingers. She raised her hips and came down hard on his shaft. "Oooh," she whispered. "Do you like that, Matthew?" Matthew nodded. His eyes were closed. She raised herself again and came down hard, swivelling her hips. She moaned. She began to slide herself up and down his swollen rod, riding him. Matthew's buttocks were clenched tightly as he raised his hips to meet her descent. "Fuck me, Mary," he whispered fiercely. Mary was lost on the brink of her ecstasy and she pursued it with abandon. "Oh, Matthew..." Matthew squeezed her nipples. Mary cried out softly, "My God..." She shook with the force of her bliss. Watching her climax, Matthew's fervour rushed to its zenith and he let himself go off. He grunted as his shaft released inside her. He gripped her hips hard and continued to rock her slowly until his orgasm was spent.

Mary lowered herself to his chest. She was covered in a light sweat. She moved to slide off of him but Matthew held her in place. "Stay with me," he said, "I want to hold you a while longer." Their breathing was heavy. He kissed her forehead. Mary laid her head against his shoulder. "I hope you don't think this is wrong, Mary," he said. "Do you?"

"I don't know. I suppose a part of me does," Mary replied. "I shudder to think what would happen if Pa-pa were to discover us."

"Would he have me tarred and feathered?" Matthew joked. "I think you underestimate him."

"My father clings to conventions and principles, Matthew," she said. "You saw how he was with Sybil. He would never forgive us."

"I am his heir. You are his daughter. We marry in four weeks. I say it hardly matters," countered Matthew. "What matters is we're together. I think Robert would agree."

Mary lifted her head and smiled at him. She could not remember a moment so filled with pure contentment. Her mind turned to their very first meeting. She had loathed him then or at least she had loathed the concept of him. That they were here now together was a remarkable twist of fate.

"It's getting very late," he said. "I should dress." She raised herself up and gave him a long and sultry kiss. "I hate it that you have to leave," Mary whispered. She lifted herself off from him and sat by his side. She watched him as he dressed. "I envy you your work," she told him. "At least you have a distraction."

"I would hardly call my work a distraction, Mary." Matthew was buttoning his shirt.

"Of course. I only meant that you can apply your mind elsewhere in ways that have meaning." Mary rose from her bed and went to her closet. "For me, it will be more talk of guests, flowers, dresses and cakes." She selected a nightgown and pulled it over her head.

Matthew finished tucking his shirt into his pants. "What would you rather be doing? Not working, surely?"

"Why not?" Mary sat down on the edge of her bed. "I did well as your nurse, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did very well. In fact, I think I might hire you again." Matthew grinned at her. "You can rub me where it hurts. Kiss it and make it all better."

"Matthew, do be serious." She smiled briefly then sighed.

"Forgive me, Mary." He sat beside her. "I want to help, I do. We can talk it about it tomorrow evening. You must think about where your talents lie."

A light rap at the door cut into their exchange. Mary silenced Matthew, holding her finger to his lips. They heard the click and scrape of the key in the lock. She walked quickly to the door and opened it to the narrowest crack. "Thank you, Anna," Mary whispered softly. Matthew saw his coat and hat pass to Mary from an unseen hand. Mary closed the door.

Matthew rose and put on his tailcoat. "That was very neat," said Matthew.

"She is, I think, my best friend," replied Mary. She handed him his things. Fully dressed, Matthew pulled Mary close in a warm embrace. "Very soon, we'll have no need for all this cloak-and-dagger," Matthew said to her. "And I will fall asleep with you in my arms." He kissed her. "I will see you tomorrow, Mary."

"Goodnight, Matthew." One last kiss and he was gone.

Her door closed silently behind him. The house was pitched in a quiet darkness. He made his way quickly down the stairs and through the hall to the front entrance. He marvelled that they had managed yet another visit to her bed chamber without complications. No doubt his mother was already retired. This visit would likely be the last though. They could not chance it again. He slipped through the front door and began the cold trek to Crawley House.

O'Brien watched him from the dining room as he headed down the front drive. "Goodnight, Mr. Crawley," she said quietly to herself. She knew that Anna had been up to something.


	14. Hard Decisions

Chapter 14 – Hard Decisions

The servants' hall was quiet in the early morning but O'Brien knew the lull would not last long. She settled herself at the dining table to plan out her day. Her mending in hand, she reflected on her discovery from the night before. It was valuable currency. She had not yet decided how to apply it. Her Ladyship was the obvious choice. O'Brien always relished an opportunity to curry favour with her mistress. Or O'Brien could tell Anna, put her on her guard, and keep her in her place. She shuddered. That poor soul had enough troubles and O'Brien would not add to them.

"You're up early, Miss O'Brien," Mrs. Patmore trumpeted as she entered the hall. She placed her tea on the table and sat down beside her with heft.

"I've some extra mending to do. You'd think Her Ladyship was a stonecutter with the wear in her clothing." O'Brien turned to her. "So you've not heard the news from upstairs?"

"What now? " Mrs. Patmore sighed. "Another dead body?" She sipped her tea.

"They've moved up the wedding," O'Brien told her. "It's to be in four short weeks."

"Four weeks!" Mrs. Patmore snorted. She looked at her colleague in disbelief. "Is this one of your stories? Because if it is, it really isn't funny."

"It's the truth," O'Brien said plainly as she sewed. "Mr. Matthew announced it at dinner."

"Did he give a reason? Is Lady Mary in the family way?" The cook dropped her spoon with a clatter against the table.

"Steady on there. They didn't give a reason," O'Brien replied, looking up from her task. "Since when does Lady Mary need a reason for anything she does?"

"Well, so much for a peaceful cup," Mrs. Patmore rose from her chair. "I'd better get a start on the wedding menus. Where is that Daisy?"

"Do take it easy on the poor girl," O'Brien chided the cook. "You wouldn't want to lose her now with the work to be done."

"That's not bloody likely," Mrs. Patmore answered. "She's assistant cook now. She's not goin' anywhere." She shot O'Brien a knowing glance and carried her dishes into the kitchen.

One by one the staff trickled in. Within the hour, the bells began ringing like Sunday morning. The real grind of her workday had begun. She readied the breakfast tray. Tea, scones, preserves, The Daily Sketch. O'Brien made her way up the narrow staircase. It was a familiar route but it could still be a challenge, especially if she met up with another traveller. She knocked at the door to Lady Grantham's bedroom, balanced the tray in one arm and opened the door.

Lady Cora sat up in her bed. Her hair was down and her face still carried the traces of sleep. "Good morning, O'Brien," she said and smiled. "Thank you," she added as O'Brien placed the tray over her lap. "Any news from downstairs?"

"I told Mrs. Patmore, m'Lady, of the new wedding date. She was none too pleased," replied O'Brien. O'Brien opened the drapes of the tall bedroom windows. Sunlight filled the room.

"And neither am I. O'Brien, I cannot imagine what led to this. I will speak with Mary later today. I will get to the bottom of it."

"It's a shame really, m'Lady. A June wedding would be so lovely," O'Brien turned to her mistress. "Speaking for the staff, we were all keen on it."

"That's still my wish, O'Brien. I will pursue it until Lady Mary concedes." Lady Grantham unfolded her paper.

"Just so you know, Mrs. Patmore is not wasting time. She's already started planning the menus. When should I return, m'Lady?"

"Thirty minutes should be fine, O'Brien. I will see you then." Lady Cora turned her attention to her paper. "Oh, and tell Mrs. Patmore that we'll meet later this morning to go over the wedding menus. I hope to change their course but if they do not, we must be ready."

O'Brien closed the door soundlessly as she left the room.

Eager to put matters to rest, Lady Grantham caught up with her eldest daughter shortly after breakfast. She found her in her bedroom where Anna was helping Mary prepare for a morning ride. "Good day, Mary." Lady Cora took a seat on the divan. She smoothed her skirt. "Anna, would you excuse us for a moment?"

"Thank you, Anna," Mary smiled warmly at her. "I will see you later." Mary waited until Anna closed the door, and then turned to her mother. "I know why you are here, Ma-ma. There is no point in discussing it. Our minds are quite made up." Mary took a last look in the mirror.

Lady Cora launched her campaign. "I must know why, Mary. Why the change in plans? Why must you wed so quickly?" Her words were laced with anxiety.

Mary sat down in the chair nearest her mother. She fiddled with her gloves. "I don't expect you to understand, Ma-ma."

"Please try me." Lady Cora's look to her daughter was direct and stern.

Mary looked down at the ring that Matthew gave her. Seconds passed before she finally spoke. "For so many years, every circumstance worked to keep us apart. Now, by some forgiving hand of fate, we are promised to each other." She looked up at her mother. "We have lost so much time. We simply wish to start our life together as soon as possible. Where is the harm in that?"

"There will be talk, Mary. There always is when a wedding is forced on to an early date." Her mother's lips were set in a straight line.

"No one is forcing anything. We want to do this," argued Mary. "Besides, I have wasted the greater part of my life fretting over appearances and the opinions of others. I cannot let my happiness be determined by what others think. Matthew taught me that. If only I had known that long ago." Mary cast her eyes downward for several moments. Then she returned her mother's gaze. "Then I would have accepted him the first time he asked me." She smiled faintly.

Her mother leaned forward. She looked keenly into Mary's eyes. "I understand that you love each other, Mary. Believe me. I know what love is." She stood up and walked over to her. She kneeled by her side. "But you see each other every day. And we are but a few months from June. That is not long. Even those few months will give us the time we need to plan." She grabbed Mary's hand. "Then it can be a celebration worthy of your love."

Mary smiled. "I appreciate your intentions, Ma-ma. I agree that does sound lovely. But I wish you could know how I long to be with him."

Lady Cora sighed. "Please promise me that you will at least think about it, Mary. Talk to Matthew about it tonight."

Mary shook her head. "No, I cannot make that promise, Ma-ma. Matthew is my life. And I will live with him as his wife in one month." She stood up. "Now cheer up. All is well and couldn't possibly be any better."

"I'm afraid that you haven't heard the last of me on this topic, Mary," warned her mother as she rose.

"Then you are taking on a fool's errand, Ma-ma," Mary said as she exited the room with her. Mother and daughter walked down the staircase together. "I will be back in an hour. I will see you at luncheon."

"Yes, of course, Mary." She watched Mary as she left the hall. Lady Cora was sorely disappointed. She headed into the library to look for her husband. Not finding him, she rang the bell for Carson. She sat down to wait. She was anxious and enervated. She rose and walked to the window. Mary could be so short-sighted at the most inconvenient times. Lady Cora had no care about when the wedding took place if it would not affect her daughter's already sullied reputation. A wedding in haste always conjured up the ghost of a scandal.

"You rang for me, m'Lady?"

"Yes, Carson. Where is Lord Robert?"

"He has gone to the village, m'Lady. It was a short errand. He should be back shortly."

Cora thought quickly. She needed allies. "Carson, please send for O'Brien. I will meet her in my room." She rose and breezed past him.

"Right away, m'Lady."

Lady Cora climbed the stairs to her room with purpose. She would engage the Dowager Countess in her campaign. Her mother-in-law had more influence on Mary than she. Violet and Mary shared the same acuity of perception and wit. Lady Grantham felt sure that the elder Countess could convince Mary to alter the course. She met up with O'Brien who was waiting for her in her bedroom. "O'Brien, I will take tea with the Dowager Countess this morning."

"Of course, m'Lady."

Lady Cora sat at her vanity. She studied her reflection in a cursory fashion. "I'm afraid my overture to Mary did not meet with much success, O'Brien." She pivoted in her seat to face her. Her maid held out her coat. Her Ladyship rose and cloaked herself with her maid's assistance. "We may have an early wedding after all." Lady Cora's eyes betrayed her. She was crestfallen.

O'Brien handed Lady Grantham her gloves. "Don't despair, m'Lady. It was only your first volley."

"Thank you, O'Brien. You know that I always appreciate your support. Very much." Lady Cora gave her a sincere smile. Lady Cora adjusted her gloves.

O'Brien hesitated, and then uttered quickly, "M'Lady..." Lady Cora turned to her. O'Brien began again. "Last night, I was restless. It was just past midnight and I was up, thinking I had left things undone." O'Brien looked at Her Ladyship intently. She had her attention. O'Brien continued. "When I heard noises in the hall, I went to see what it could be. It was Mr. Matthew." She looked down. "He was leaving just then. He didn't see me." She returned to Lady Cora's gaze.

Lady Cora was silent. She remembered asking Carson about their whereabouts last night. His answer had been clear: Mr. Crawley had left and Lady Mary had retired. She took off her gloves and handed them to O'Brien. She unbuttoned her coat, prompting O'Brien to remove it from her. She walked to the nearest chair and sat down. She looked at her maid. "Are you sure?" Her voice was low.

"Yes, m'Lady," O'Brien answered, "Quite sure."

Lady Cora sat in silence. O'Brien returned her coat to the closet. Her mistress stood up. "Please fetch Lord Grantham. I need to speak with him at once."

"Yes, m'Lady." O'Brien turned to leave. Her mistress spoke again, causing her to pause.

"And please, O'Brien, tell no one else. No one."

"Of course, ma'am." She left Lady Cora alone with her thoughts.


	15. A Tempest

Chapter 15 – A Tempest

Upon returning from the village, Robert Crawley was greeted by Carson. "It's a lovely day out there, Carson." He handed him his coat and hat.

"It would seem so, m'Lord," Carson replied. "Her Ladyship wishes to see you, sir."

Lord Grantham raised his eyebrows. "That would be par for the course. Where can I find her, Carson?" Robert asked.

"I believe she's in her room, sir," the butler replied. "Shall I send up some tea?"

"I will take it in the library in fifteen minutes. Thank you." Robert made his way into the hall and up the staircase. His wife assigned only the most serious of discussions to her bedroom. He assumed that it was about the wedding. It was no secret that she was unhappy about Matthew's and Mary's news of last evening. For himself, Robert could not be more contented. The sooner their union was formalized, the better. He wanted nothing more than to ensure for his eldest daughter the happiness that had eluded her for so long.

When he entered Cora's room, she was sitting in a chair by the window, staring out into the day. "Hello, darling," he said as he approached. She looked at him. There was no question that she was troubled. Her brow was furrowed and her mouth was set in a frown. "What is the matter?" he asked as he sat down across from her.

"It's Mary and Matthew," she told him. "I even hesitate to say it."

"Please, Cora, what is it?" Her anxiety was contagious.

"We were all deceived," she said in hushed tones. "We all thought Matthew had left early last night. But he was here alone with Mary." She returned her gaze to the window. Robert was quiet as he considered her narrative.

"How did you learn this?" he finally asked her.

"O'Brien told me. She watched him leave last night. It was past midnight when he left the house." Cora waited for Robert's response. Hearing nothing, she turned to look at him. Robert sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "If it's true, I have to say I am more relieved than anything else," he said.

"What? Relieved?" Cora was incredulous. "Do you know what you're saying?"

"Think of it, Cora," Robert countered. "Mary and Matthew have suffered every manner of obstacle in their relationship. Naturally I imagined the worst when I saw you. This is actually the least of my concerns."

"Robert, you must not be cavalier about this," his wife cautioned, her voice rising.

"Cora, be sensible. What can we conclude about their conduct? Absolutely nothing," Robert sat back in his chair. "We know Matthew may have been here past midnight. That is all we know."

Cora could no longer restrain her temper. "They sequestered themselves under a veil of secrecy and deceit. That can only mean one thing. And I will not have it. Not while I am mistress of this house." Her tone matched the sharpness of her words.

She got up from her chair. Robert rose and went to meet her. He held her gently by her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "Cora, calm yourself. You mustn't read into this. Even if what you say is true, what does it mean? They are young and in love; they will be man and wife soon enough." Cora's face was hardened, her mouth set in a thin straight line. Robert added in a softer tone, "Surely you must remember what it is like to be in love?"

"We were already married," Cora replied, unaffected. "They are not."

Robert could sense that she would not be placated. "What will you do?" he asked her.

Cora said decidedly, "You mean what 'we' will do, Robert. We will send Mary away until the wedding. She can stay with her Aunt Rosamund in London or with her sister in Dublin. It will be her choice."

"And if she refuses?" Robert queried.

"Then I will confront Matthew. He can answer to me, if she will not." Cora stepped around her husband and headed for the door. "Did you arrange for tea, Robert?"

"In the library," he replied. "I will be there shortly." Robert proceeded to his room for a change of clothes. As expected, Thomas was there tending to his wardrobe. Despite Thomas' spotty history with Downton, Robert remained impressed by him. He had a hearty work ethic, was punctual and attentive to detail. Over and above that, Thomas had an entertaining turn of phrase and already, they had developed a good rapport. Although no one could replace Bates, Thomas was as good a stand-in as anyone.

After exchanging polite greetings, Robert sat down to remove his shoes. Looking up at his valet, he asked him directly, "Thomas, did you notice anything unusual last night?"

"In what way do you mean, sir?" Thomas said as he knelt down at the foot of Lord Grantham to assist him.

"You know. Noises late in the night, stirrings, that sort of thing. Anything out of the ordinary," Lord Grantham added.

"Well," Thomas began, "Miss O'Brien was not in bed until the wee hours or so she said. That's not unusual for her though." He selected a shirt for His Lordship and brought it to him.

So her story may have a ring of truth, Robert thought.

"An ancient house like this one cannot be without its squeaks and creaks, sir," Thomas observed.

"Quite right," replied Lord Robert, as he rose to replace his jacket. "I'll be in the library, Thomas."

As he walked down the stairs, Robert mulled over his conversation with Cora. He doubted that her mood had improved. He wondered whether his approach to the situation had been too casual. Yet even after reflection, it was impossible for him to frame it in more serious terms. Matthew was like a son to him. More than that, he was a war hero and a man of integrity from any perspective. Robert recognized that he was partial to him but for very good reason. And now that Matthew was to marry his daughter – whose love for Matthew was undoubted – he could see no harm in a small indulgence prior to the wedding. He regretted Cora's proposed tactics but he considered it very unlikely that he could divert her. He had little choice in the matter.

The tension in the house only increased throughout the morning. By the time Mary joined her parents for luncheon, the air seemed ready to snap. The young lover was oblivious to it. Her face still carried the glow from her morning ride and she greeted them with a warm enthusiasm. She sat down.

"Where's Edith?" Mary inquired blithely.

"She is lunching with your grandmother," Lady Cora replied. "How was your ride?"

"Perfect." Mary smiled at her mother. Lady Cora did not acknowledge her reply, nor did she return her regard. Carson began the lunch service and a relentless quiet settled over the table. Mary turned to the butler. "How are you, Carson?" Lady Mary asked him, smiling. "Very well, m'Lady," he said, returning her courtesy.

Minutes passed in silence. "Well," Mary began, "I hope you're not still disappointed with me, Ma-ma, about our new wedding plans." She stirred her soup as she waited for her mother to answer. Lady Cora looked up at her. "Carson, please leave us," she said to him, her eyes fixed on Mary.

"Certainly, ma'am," said Carson. He left straightaway. Mary turned to her mother expectantly.

"Mary, where were you at midnight last night?" Cora asked her daughter gravely.

Mary was composed. "I was in my room, naturally."

"You must think carefully when you answer my next question, Mary," Cora warned her. "Where was Matthew?"

Mary hesitated. "He was with me," she replied coolly. She looked at her mother intently.

Cora faced her. "And what business would Matthew have with you in your bedroom at midnight?" Her voice was low and restrained.

"We are adults, Ma-ma," Mary answered quietly. "It is no one's business but our own."

"Let me be clear, Mary," Lady Grantham responded with deliberation. "As long as I am your mother and mistress of this house, it is my business."

Mary answered her, "Does it really shock you, Ma-ma, that Matthew and I would be lovers? Why else would we want to marry as soon as it was possible?" She looked at her ring. "There is less shame in that than there should be in marrying for social rank or for money." She raised her eyes and looked at each of her parents in turn.

Robert stepped into the fray. "Mary, you go too far," he admonished her.

She turned to her father. "Do I?" She paused. "Matthew and I love each other. There is nothing impure or immoral about it. Our union is neither tainted by money nor the need for some social advantage. It is love, pure and simple." She looked at her mother and said, "And yes, we have acted on that love. So what of it? He is not a libertine. He is not a profiteer. He is more worthy of the title of gentleman than any that I have ever met in my life." Mary's voice rose with her conviction.

Cora sat back. "So what do you expect, Mary? That we allow Matthew to come and go from your bedroom as he pleases? Your argument is a shallow one." Cora's gaze went from Mary to her husband and back. "You cannot deny that you played a game of deception. You lied to me; you lied to your father. You know very well that you have broken the rules."

Robert leaned forward and spoke. "You are right, Mary, insofar as Matthew is concerned. He is a gentleman." He sat back. "But you cannot expect your mother and me to deny all social convention and allow you to continue."

Lady Cora addressed her daughter firmly and unequivocally. "This must stop. You must either remove yourself to London with your Aunt Rosamond or you can visit Sybil in Dublin. I will settle for nothing less." Her eyes were harshly set and her tone left no room for compromise. "Until the wedding," she uttered with finality.

Mary looked down at her table setting. Her heart had risen to her throat. "I cannot do that," she replied softly.

"You will," Cora affirmed. "If you don't agree, then you leave me no choice. I will ask Matthew to leave."

"He won't," Mary said quietly and she sat back. All at once, she felt exhausted. "Please excuse me." She drew back her chair and left the room.


	16. Resolution

Chapter 16 – Resolution

Mary lay down on her bed. Turning her head to the side, she eyed the expanse of her mattress. She stretched her arm out, sliding her hand over to the side where he had lain. Mary brought her mind back to him. Each encounter with him seemed more intense and lovelier than the last. Her heart quickened as she thought of him underneath her. Her hands remembered the warmth and smoothness of his skin, the chiselled lines of his chest and shoulders. They had found such a blissful rhythm last night. She bit on her bottom lip. She grasped at the bed linens beside her, wishing he were there.

Mary asked herself whether it was possible for her to do without him, even for a few weeks. Of course, it was not a decision that she could make on her own. She needed to see Matthew. She rose and rang the bell for Anna. She sat down at her vanity and began to undo her hair. Anna arrived within minutes. She immediately assumed the task that Mary had begun. "How is your day going, Anna?" Mary asked her.

"I've had better days, m'Lady." Anna gave her a brief smile. "Some days wear on me harder than others."

"How is Bates?" Mary asked her; her eyes softened.

"He is holding his own," Anna replied as she brushed her mistress's hair. "When I saw him last Sunday, his spirits were up or so it seemed. I think he means to buoy my spirits by his example." Anna continued, "I know the guards by name now, as does John of course. He has made friends both among the guards and his fellow inmates, as peculiar as that sounds."

Mary watched Anna's face closely as she described her last prison visit. Her face glowed as she spoke of her husband, and her mood lifted.

"I meant to thank you for yesterday, Anna," Mary said somewhat sheepishly. "I realize now that I had no right to burden you with my scheming and I'm sorry for it."

Anna put the final touches on Mary's hair. "It's of no moment, m'Lady." Anna's eyes lit up with mischief. "I needed the diversion. I rather enjoyed it."

"I did as well. Unfortunately, we've been found out," Mary sighed. "Not you, Anna," she added quickly, "Matthew and I." She applied her perfume. Anna froze. "But how could that be?" Anna asked her. "I had thought myself so careful."

"I cannot answer that, I'm afraid," Mary replied as she rose from her chair. "But my mother is determined to send me to either London or Dublin until the wedding." Mary paused. "So I will meet with Matthew now, if I can find him."

Anna fetched Mary's coat and her gloves. "What will you do?"

"I haven't decided." Mary said, as Anna assisted her with her coat. "I cannot bear the thought of leaving Matthew, even if only for a month." She looked at Anna. "It all seems so silly when compared to your troubles, Anna."

"M'lady, you mustn't think like that," Anna chided her softly. "Life is too short to squander opportunities for love." She grabbed Mary's hand. "If you are compelled to be with him, you mustn't fight it." She smiled and released her.

"Thank you, Anna," Mary replied. "You're quite right, as usual." Mary left the room ahead of her maid. She went directly to the library, hoping to come upon her father. He was at his desk, poring over papers. "Pa-pa, I'm going into the village," Mary told him. "May I take the motor car?"

"Yes, of course," her father replied. "Have you decided?"

"No, I haven't," Mary answered. "I will meet with Matthew. I will be back before dinner." She turned to leave then hesitated. She looked at Lord Robert and stated clearly, "I'm sorry, Pa-pa, about what I said. I was angry. I should not have said those things."

"I understand, Mary," Robert answered her. "Apology accepted."

"I am sorry about everything," Mary said to him. "I know that you would wish to have a daughter that confines herself to social conventions. I'm a disappointment that way."

"Mary..." Robert started.

"No, Pa-pa, please let me finish," Mary interrupted him. "After what you've learned, you may not think so but Matthew redeems me. Whatever happens, please know that I'm a better person now than I've ever been. I am happier than I've ever been."

Robert smiled at her. "I'm glad of it," he told her. Mary returned his smile. She turned and left.

Given the hour, Mary expected Matthew to be at work and she directed the chauffeur to his office. In all of the years that she had known him, she had never once stepped foot across the threshold of his professional life. She felt excited as she breached the doorway into the office building. The reception area was humble. The room was a dull gray. The sombre atmosphere was made worse by the scarcity of natural light. A divan and a number of chairs bordered two walls. A white-haired gentleman sat at a desk in one corner of the room. He looked up as she entered.

"May I help you, madam?" the senior gentleman inquired politely.

"Yes, you may," Mary answered brightly. "I'm here to see Mr. Crawley. Is he in?"

"He is," he answered. "May I tell him who is calling on him?"

"Yes, of course," Mary said. "Lady Mary Crawley." She smiled at him and took her seat.

After a few short moments, the gentleman returned. "Would you care to follow me, Madam?" Mary rose. She stepped after him gracefully. He led her to another room. She waited as he announced her. He stepped aside and she entered into Matthew's law chamber. She saw Matthew and her heart leapt.

"Darling, this is a pleasant surprise," Matthew said, his eyes shining. He got up from behind his desk. Mary looked about her. Matthew walked around his desk to greet her.

"I'm so sorry to disturb you, Matthew," Mary answered him. She eyed the books that lined the walls. His desk was covered with papers and files. It was a world of import and grand matters. She sighed and smiled at her lover.

"Believe me, Mary. You are a welcome distraction." He grabbed her hands and leaned against the front of his desk. "Come and kiss me," he demanded tenderly. Mary obliged him. She leaned against him and Matthew wrapped his arms about her waist. She placed her hands on his chest. Their lips met. Mary could not resist slipping her tongue into his mouth. She loved the taste of him. He pressed her against him. Reluctantly, she drew her lips away slowly. "We must talk, Matthew," she told him softly. She sat down in the chair in front of his desk. Matthew remained standing.

"What is it, Mary?" He looked at her with concern.

"I'm afraid we've been found out after all," she told him. "My parents confronted me at luncheon."

"They know that we were together in your room last night?" Matthew asked her. "But how?" He paced to the other side of the room. The house had been as silent and as dark as a tomb when he left.

Mary followed him with her eyes. "I haven't the slightest clue," she replied. "When Ma-ma raised her accusations, I couldn't lie to them."

"What did they say? How are you?" Matthew returned to her. He reached for her. She stood up next to him.

"I'm fine now that I'm with you," she told him softly. He grabbed her hand and with his other, cradled her cheek. "They were disappointed," she resumed. "It was mostly Ma-ma. Pa-pa said very little."

"What should I expect tonight?" he asked her, taking both of her hands in his. "Will your father meet me at the door with his double gun?" He arched his brow and smiled slyly at her.

She gave him a shy smile. "It is not on you, Matthew," Mary told him. "My mother demands that I go away until the wedding. She no longer trusts me around you." She gave a slight smile. "I cannot say that she is entirely wrong."

"Go away?"

"To London or to Dublin." Mary looked up at him. "Until the wedding."

Matthew leaned back against the desk. He was lost in thought. "This is so odd," he finally said. "I feel that they have no business in it. I feel as if we're already married." He looked at her.

Mary's heart swelled. "I feel the same," she told him. "What shall we do?"

He pulled her close. He studied her face. He could not imagine living without her for the next four weeks. He kissed her. He brought his hands up and held her head against his as they kissed. Mary sensed his longing for her and leaned against him. She placed her hands on his hips and pressed against him. She drew back her lips. "I love you, Matthew," she whispered.

"I love you, Mary," he replied. He stared at her. "Let's sit." He pulled a chair up next to hers. "I cannot pretend that I know the best route, Mary. All I know is what I feel." He grabbed her hand. "We should talk to them this afternoon before my mother arrives for dinner."

"And say what?" Mary searched his eyes.

"I shall tell them that you're not going anywhere, of course," Matthew replied easily.

"I cannot defy them, Matthew," she told him quietly.

He knelt beside her instantly. "Then marry me. Today if we can."

"What?" Mary laughed. "What are you saying?"

"We can make an appointment at the magistrate's office," Matthew responded, smiling. "For me, there is but one certainty in life. I cannot be happy without you near me."

"You are incorrigible, Matthew Crawley," she said. She ran her fingers through his hair and smiled at him.

"But I'm serious, Mary." He looked up at her; his eyes held the intensity of a star. "I will marry you first before they send you anywhere. They will have nothing to say about it." He framed her face with his hands. "You must not leave me, Mary. Tell me you will not leave."

Mary tilted her head as she gazed at him. "I will never leave you," she promised him.

Matthew rose and walked to the coat tree behind his desk. He grabbed his hat and overcoat. "Come then," he said as he reached out to her. She grabbed his hand and rose from the chair.

One half hour later, they were in the drawing room, waiting for her parents to arrive. They sat side by side. Upon spying the entrance of Cousin Cora, Matthew stood up. Lord Robert was directly behind her. "Good afternoon, Cora, Robert," Matthew started.

"Yes, good day, Matthew," Robert spoke for himself and his wife. Cora took her seat in the chair nearest Mary.

"I will get straight to the point then," Matthew began again.

"Please," Robert said.

"Mary and I are aware of your disappointment in us," said Matthew. "I understand it. And I'm sorry for it." He looked at each of her parents in turn. He went on, "But we cannot accept your terms. Mary does not want to leave. More to the point, I do not want her to leave."

"This is impossible," Cora uttered.

"Ma-ma, please," Mary checked her. "You must hear us out."

"Mary and I have made an appointment with the magistrate. Tomorrow afternoon at three o'clock," Matthew announced. "So we can be married tomorrow if that is what you prefer."

Cora's demeanour collapsed. "Mary, is this what you want?" she asked her in disbelief. "To be married in the fashion of a commoner?"

"What does it matter, Ma-ma? We will be married," Mary replied, smiling.

Robert stepped into the debate quietly. "Matthew, I think you've made your point. There is no need for grand gestures." He turned to Mary. "Fine, Mary, you may stay. But there are rules. Cora?"

Her face was cast down. She looked at them both. "I agree. The rules have not changed. We ask that you respect them."

"We're agreed then," Matthew stated. "I shall cancel the appointment." The four of them stared at each other in silence. "I must be off. I will see you all at dinner." Matthew smiled. "If you will still have me."

"Matthew, it would take far more than this to strain our relationship," Robert said as he walked over to him. He patted him on the shoulder. Cora joined them. "Yes, of course." She shook Matthew's hand.

"I will see you off, Matthew," Mary said as she rose from her seat. They walked together to the main entranceway. "You are my champion," she whispered to him as she kissed him good-bye. "Come back soon."

"I will," he replied. She watched him as he walked down the drive.


	17. Restraint and Recreation

Chapter 17 – Restraint and Recreation

The surface of his desk was a muddle of books, documents and scribbles on tablets of lined paper. Frustrated, Matthew leaned back in his chair and tossed his fountain pen onto his desk. He had been struggling with his work for the past week. It didn't help that the air in his office was stale and static, and his ability to concentrate was all but completely dissipated. Except, of course, when he thought of her. Right or wrong, he believed that she was at the root of his scattered mind.

Matthew rose from behind his desk and walked to the window. Every night, he sat beside Mary at dinner amid the food, the wine and the banter. Every night for the past two weeks, he could see but not touch; he could smell but not taste. Then, after hours under Cora's imperious surveillance, he would trudge home to another sleepless night. The pendulum had swung from the sublime to the idiotic. It was maddening.

Cousin Cora's intentions had been clear from the first evening of the "New Order". Somehow she had ensured that Mary would never be alone with him. Carson was practically omnipresent, and if it was not Carson, it was one of the footmen. The evening before last, he thought that Mary might have slipped through the net. He had arrived early for dinner and stole a glimpse into the library. She was sitting near the window, looking more beautiful than ever. He strode quickly to meet her, but Cora materialized behind him as if conjured from the air. She ushered them to the drawing room, herding them like a couple of stray sheep.

He wondered if Mary suffered through it as he did. It was hard to tell. Mary's defining characteristic was her cool sophistication. In the company of others, she was unlikely to let down her guard, and if she had weakened, he had not seen it. He alone knew how hot-blooded she could be. In fact, her intensity transported him. Something in the way she moved, in the sounds that she made, steeped his blood in desire for her. Standing in his office, he lost himself dwelling on it. He became aroused beyond all reasonable measure, considering there was little he could do to gratify himself. Enough. Matthew grabbed his coat and hat. He walked out of his office, single-minded of purpose.

When he arrived at the house, he did not announce his entry. He opened the glass doors that led into the hall. His heart was in his throat. It was too much to hope that she would be here alone and without a chaperone. Carson arrived. "Mr. Crawley, forgive me. I did not hear the bell," he said to him.

Matthew smiled at him transiently. "I hadn't rung the bell, Carson," Matthew told him. "I was hoping that I could hook up quickly with Lady Mary. Is she in?"

"I'm sorry, but no, she is not, sir," Carson replied with regret. "She is out riding. But Lord Grantham is in the library, if you care to wait for her."

Matthew paused to assess his next play. "Thank you, but no. Please let Lady Mary know that I was here," he replied. "I will see her at dinner, Carson. Good day."

"Of course. Good day, sir."

Matthew exited the front door and immediately made his way around the house to the stables. His gait was steady and purposeful. The yard was empty but for a young stable hand. Relieved of any need to explain his motives, he looked for the mare that he favoured as he entered the stables. His heart raced. It made no sense, but he felt certain that Mary was waiting for him. He meant to find her.

After gearing his horse, he mounted and headed onto the same path that he and Mary had followed at least twice before. The cool breeze was a welcome change to the stagnant air of his office. He felt alive, invigorated. The horse seemed to catch onto his enthusiasm and she responded with liveliness to his signals. They galloped through the long grasses of the meadow and slowed as they entered the thicker brush.

When Matthew finally came upon the cottage, he looked about, hoping to see some sign of her. Finding none, he hesitated. His mare snorted impatiently as he brought her to a solid halt. He needed some respite from his ride. He dismounted and tethered his horse to a nearby tree. He looked at the cottage and made his way down the path to the entrance. He tried the door. It opened more easily than it had in the past. He pushed on it and stepped across the threshold, ducking his head under the shallow doorway.

There she was. "Matthew," she uttered. She stood up from her seat at the small oak table across from the cot.

"Mary," he answered softly. All of his muscles weakened in concert. He walked to her quickly and they embraced. He pressed her against him, his hands on her hips. "What are you doing here?" he whispered in her ear.

She pulled away from him and looked into his eyes. "I came here to find you. I imagined that I might meet you here sooner or later." Smiling, she reached up and took off his hat. "And, you see, I was right." She placed his hat on the table behind her. She ran her fingers through his hair as she stared into his eyes.

Matthew would not relinquish his hold on her. "Why did you not tell me?" he asked her. His eyes took in her hair, her lips and the length of her neck.

"When would I have the chance, Matthew?" She smiled at him. "You know as well as I do that she has been reigning over us like the Ice Queen." She brought her hand up to his face and stroked his cheek. He lowered his face to hers, grazing her lips with his. "She's not here now," Matthew reminded her softly.

"No," Mary whispered, breathing him in. "She's not." She went to kiss him but he pulled away slightly, keeping his lips just out of her reach. He smiled. "You mustn't, Mary," he warned her gently. "Do you know where it will lead?" He brought his hand to her lips and traced them with his fingers. Mary swallowed. "Where, Matthew?" she murmured.

He brought his lips close to hers again and whispered, "Shall I show you?" He came closer and licked her lips slowly. Her taste was distinct: fruity and minty, like a candy. He wanted to freeze time. He picked her up by her waist and placed her on the table. Standing between her knees, he kissed her fully on the lips, plunging his tongue into her mouth. His hands pulled up on her skirt until the edge of it lay across her thighs and he felt Mary catch her breath. His fingertips crept beneath the fabric to her garters. When he came upon the flesh of her upper thighs, he sighed long and low. "Mary, I have waited so long for you. These days and nights have been torturous," he said softly. "Do you know that?"

"Yes, Matthew," she whispered. "Absolutely torturous." She breathed in quickly as his hands slipped underneath her drawers. "I have longed for your touch so much, Matthew." She bent her head down and raised her skirt to her waist. Matthew watched as she undid the snaps of each garter in turn and rolled down her stockings. He leaned over and took off each of her shoes, and the stockings followed. She watched Matthew run his hands up and down the front of her bare thighs. They kissed again, their tongues hungry for each other.

Matthew caressed her legs one last time before he grabbed the stray chair and pulled it towards him. He sat down facing her, her legs on either side of him. Mary stared down at him; her eyes were bottomless black pools. He slid his hands upwards along the silkiness of her inner thighs. Fingers sliding beneath her drawers again, he sought her heat. Despite his hunger for her, he was determined to take his time. He looked to Mary. "Yes, Matthew," she whispered. She leaned back. He began to finger her gently with his right hand. Mary whimpered softly, very softly. He probed her until he found what he was looking for. He looked into her eyes again. They were wide and wanting him. "Don't stop," she whispered desperately. With his left hand, he rubbed her mound gently. The fingers of his right hand were wet and hot within her. Time had stopped, and he was caught up in her course to rapture.

Mary was breathing rapidly. My God, this is delicious, she thought. If he continued to handle her like this, she would not be able to hold back. She bit on her bottom lip with the effort of her restraint. She moaned, "Oh no, Matthew, not yet." He kept at her. "Oh, please..." she cried out. Matthew felt the shudders of her climax with his fingers. He pulled back her drawers with his left hand and bent forward for a taste. Mary wrapped her legs around his neck. She pressed herself against his open mouth. She quivered again suddenly in a second round of bliss. She gasped. "Oh, my," she breathed.

Matthew kissed the inside of her thighs and gently extricated himself from her tender trap. He rose and pulled her to him. He held her gently as she recovered her senses. She rested her head against his chest, breathing heavily. "Matthew, how do you know so well how to please me?" she asked him softly. She raised her head to look at him and he lowered his lips to hers. She opened her mouth for him. He wanted to drink her in; his tongue licked the edges of her lips, her teeth, and her tongue. With his hand at the back of her head, he pressed her mouth even more firmly against his. Her lips were trembling. Mary was amazed at the depth of her craving for him. Minutes after her last release, she wanted him yet again. But this time, she wanted his quintessence, the core of him. They had not yet broken their embrace when Mary lowered her hands to his waist. She felt for the buttons of his jacket and began to undo it.

It was Matthew that broke away first. His haste betrayed his waning ability to hold himself in check. He completed the undoing and threw his jacket on the floor. Mary's fingers began to work on the buttons at the front of his pant as Matthew watched. She released his suspenders, reached into his briefs, and grabbed him forcefully. The two of them gasped in quick succession. "Mary, you are so perfect. Do you know how perfect you are?" he murmured.

"Take me, Matthew," she urged him breathlessly. She leaned back on her arms and moved her hips forward, her mouth open. Matthew guided himself to her and penetrated her gently. He slipped inside her so easily, as if he was the missing piece, like he belonged there. The heat and the creaminess of her drove him mad. Impossibly, he found his footing and began to slide himself back and forth ever so slowly. He watched himself enter her and draw back. He would not last long. He closed his eyes. He wanted to hold onto it and endure, to marinate in her sublimely wet and hot canal. He swallowed and took in the sight again. He thrust himself into her. Mary exclaimed softly, "Yes, Matthew, oh, yes..." With slow deliberation, he drew back and thrust again. "Oh...Matthew," she whispered blissfully. Her head was back, her skirt raised wantonly about her waist. He was holding onto her thighs when he arrived at the point of no return. "Oh, Mary...you are so beautiful," he gasped. His hips moved faster. "I can't stop it," he whispered to her passionately. It was his turn. He let out a soft low groan as he went off inside of her, his hands in a firm grip around each of her thighs. "My God, Mary," he breathed as his rapture subsided in waves.

He stayed inside of her. He was panting. He pulled her towards him and she draped her arms about his neck. They held onto each other tightly. Only seconds had slipped by when Mary spoke, "I can't go back there, Matthew." She drew back from him and looked into his eyes. "We belong together." He touched his forehead to hers. He pulled out of her.

Matthew agreed. 'Things cannot go on as they have," he said definitively. He bent down, grabbed his pant waist and started to dress himself. Mary gestured to him, "My stockings, Matthew, please." He picked them up from the floor and handed them to her. He watched her as she replaced them, sheathing each slender long limb in turn. Her head was bent down as she fastened her garters. At once, he wanted to unfasten them and start again. He leaned over to her and kissed her, fully and fervidly. She kissed him back with equal vigour. Their plans could wait.


	18. Defiance

Chapter 18 – Defiance

The cot was small but serviceable. Atop it, their bodies were melded in a slow, impassioned rhythm and their eyes were locked onto each other's gaze. Leaning on his left side, Matthew measured the movement of his hips as he immersed himself in her again and again with indulgent deliberation. This blissful oneness was almost too perfect. They were no longer conscious of time or their surroundings. It was a suspended state of rapture that neither of them had ever experienced or even knew existed. "Now, Matthew," she said in a whisper so soft, she could barely be heard. Matthew shifted his weight until he was directly above her and he deepened his advances.

Mary opened her mouth, her eyes fixed on his face. Vibrant waves of pleasure washed over her with increasing intensity. Matthew's eyes were pleading with her. "Come with me," he said, his voice low, "I'll wait for you." Mary closed her eyes and leaned her head back. She felt his lips against her throat. He knew her so well. She felt herself cresting; in the next instant, she was awash in a heaving hot and sensuous sea. Her body quaked and her mouth was open in a silent expression of complete ravishment. Matthew was overwhelmed by his desire. He plunged forward, reaching into her. His release was fierce and long and his entire body shook with it. Mary's hands grasped at the sheet on either side of her. She gasped as she came a second time. Matthew covered her open mouth with his. He savoured the last bits of his subsiding climax with the taste of her in his mouth.

They sustained this last kiss, both of them unwilling to end their intense union. Matthew pulled back slowly. His breathing was still apace as he lowered himself beside her. "How are you, my darling?" he whispered to her. He gathered her in his arms, placing her head on his chest. Mary smiled and said softly, "That was lovely."

"You're lovely," he replied, stroking her hair. A minute passed. He raised his head, saying, "We should dress. It seems certain now we'll be late for dinner."

Mary smiled at him lazily, her eyes half-closed. "I'm not hungry," she replied.

"Come now," he said softly. "You must have worked up something of an appetite." He sensed her reluctance to return to the house.

"If I do have an appetite, I am sure to lose it once I'm confronted by Ma-ma," she said with regret. "Really, Matthew, it's completely absurd. She treats us like a couple of unruly children." With a sigh of resignation, she raised herself from the bed and began to gather her clothes. Matthew watched Mary as she dressed. He could not disagree with her assessment. He thought back to his stagnation at the office, and to the prolonged misery of days and nights without her. He would not revisit that place. The War had shown him what things really mattered in life; convention and propriety were not among them.

He stood up and began to dress. "Mary," he said, "Come home with me." She turned to him, her eyes as wide as the meadows they had crossed. "Come and dine with me at Crawley House tonight. I'll send a message up to the house. Please, Mary." He pulled her gently to him. "Just you and I."

Mary was uncertain but not unwilling. "You cannot be serious, Matthew. Ma-ma would already have us drawn and quartered because we spent the afternoon together."

"But you're right, Mary. Your mother goes too far. We must draw our line in the sand." He buttoned his shirt. "Besides," he added, "I have no inclination to leave you just yet." Matthew looked at her with hopeful eyes. "Please don't make me," he said. All of her caution melted away in the depth of his gaze.

Mary stayed silent while they continued to dress. Finally, she spoke. "What is for dinner then?" she asked him, smiling. She gathered her hair in a knot. Matthew buttoned his pants. He looked up at her.

"You are," he answered as he grabbed her around the waist. He pulled her close to him and kissed her. Mary smiled broadly at him, as she draped her arms about his neck. "But what am I having?" she whispered in his ear.

"Whatever you desire," he replied softly. He nibbled lightly on her ear. Mary laughed. "Matthew, you are so impetuous," she chided him lightly. "We are both going to starve."

"On the contrary," Matthew countered. "You will feast like a queen tonight, Mary. I promise you."

The mood had lifted and they hurried to finish dressing. They left the cottage in much the same way they had found it. No one looking upon that barren room would have guessed at its secrets.

When they arrived at Crawley House, the sun was almost settled. They tied their horses at the gate. Moseley greeted them both by name at the front door. He appeared slightly flustered, but gracious all the same, not normally having the privilege of Lady Mary's attendance. "Mrs. Crawley waited for you, sir. She left not fifteen minutes ago." Moseley relieved them of their coats and hats.

"I hope she wasn't put out. Did she wait for long?" asked Matthew.

"Not at all, sir," the butler replied. "She was in fine humour when she left, sir."

"Good," Matthew said. "Moseley, would you be good enough to fetch Beth? Lady Mary and I will be dining here tonight and I believe Lady Mary will want to freshen up, won't you, darling?"

"Dining here, sir?" Moseley was startled.

"Yes, Moseley, I've assured Lady Mary that Crawley House has as fine a table as any in the village. Is Mrs. Bird still here?"

"Yes, of course, sir," Moseley replied. "I will let her know at once." He turned to hasten to his tasks. It had been awhile since they had had a guest for dinner and never one as splendid as Lady Mary. He supposed he would have to get used to it.

"Oh, Moseley, I almost forgot." Moseley stopped and turned. "We will have to send word to the house," Matthew added.

"Yes, straightaway, sir." Moseley was off again.

Mary felt liberated. Being here alone with Matthew exhilarated her. It was a vision of things to come, what their life might be like. Matthew reached out to her and she took his hand. He pulled her close. "You smell like fresh air and moonlight," he whispered. "I think I was foolish to bring you here after all. It's rather counter-productive." Matthew didn't feel like eating at all. He wanted to gather her in his arms and carry her to his room. Mary kissed him slowly on the lips. "I do have to freshen up, darling," she told him. Just then, Beth arrived, slightly short of breath. "M'lady," she said demurely, not daring to look up. She curtsied briefly.

"Beth, please show Lady Mary up to the guest room and bring her whatever she needs," Matthew directed. "I'll wait for you in the dining room, Mary." He watched the two women ascend the stairs. He then descended into the servants' passage to the kitchen to meet with Mrs. Bird. She was tending to the fires and already had pots steaming on the stove. "Mrs. Bird, you are a miracle worker," said Matthew as he surveyed her preparations.

"I'm happy to do it, sir. I had a chicken roasting for tomorrow. It'll do for tonight, I imagine. There'll be a dinner service in twenty minutes, sir." The older woman was so preoccupied; she might have looked up to him for one second during her entire address.

Matthew smiled. "I could kiss you, Mrs. Bird. I gave Lady Mary very high expectations for dinner, I'm afraid."

"I won't disappoint, sir," she stated flatly. "You can save the kiss for your sweetheart." Matthew grinned at her.

Matthew hurried down the passage and up to his room where he hoped Moseley was waiting for him. "Quickly, Moseley, I don't want to keep her waiting." His fingers ran down the front of his jacket, undoing buttons.

"No, sir," Moseley replied, as he brought out a well-pressed jacket from the armoire. Within ten minutes, Matthew was dressed and groomed for dinner. He took one last look in the mirror before heading down the stairs. "Will you bring out the best white that we have, Moseley? The very best."

"Very good, sir."

"You're a good man, Moseley. Thank you for all your help this evening. It would have been quite impossible without you." Matthew smiled at him and left the room in haste. When he arrived in the dining room, he was relieved; she had not yet come down. The table was set.

"Matthew, that's not fair."

He turned around to see her standing in the doorway. Her hair was down and gathered to one side, secured with a ribbon. "I don't have a change of clothes," she said regretfully with a slight shrug of her shoulders. She felt awkward without her usual dinner attire and he, standing there so handsome in his black tie and dinner jacket. She looked down at her skirt, and then looked at him, smiling. He wondered whether he would ever become accustomed to her natural elegance and beauty. For now, he was rendered speechless. He went to her, framed her face with his hands and raised her lips to his. Mary closed her eyes. His lips were soft and moist. He lowered his hands slowly, his fingers caressing the length of her throat. Reluctantly, Matthew lifted his head, ending their embrace. "You are perfect just as you are," he said to her. He led her to the table and pulled out her chair. Moseley arrived to fill their wine glasses.

They sat in close proximity to one another at one corner of the table. Matthew had not given any direction to the butler that way. Either Moseley had the sensibility of a romantic or had simply chosen the most expedient setting in the circumstances. In either case, Matthew was content. The butler left the room briefly.

The candlelight made diamonds out of Mary's brown eyes. Matthew slipped his hand over hers. "This was a brilliant idea," he said. "Why have we not done this before?" Moseley returned with the soup tureen and Matthew drew his hand back. After the servant had spooned out each serving, Matthew excused him. "Thank you, Moseley, we'll ring for you."

"Very good, sir," Moseley replied before taking his leave.

Mary leaned over to Matthew. "You know we may never hear the last of this," she cautioned him. "They're probably still prying their jaws from off the floor."

"It will no doubt make for some lively dinner conversation this evening," Matthew surmised. "Cousin Violet and Mother will be sure to have an opinion."

Mary smiled as she thought of her granny's pragmatic wit and sharp tongue. "What would your mother say, Matthew?" Mary's interest was piqued. She dipped into her soup.

"My mother was born and raised in the city, Mary," answered Matthew. "Her views are not as provincial as one might expect. She may not like what we've done but she would respect my choices."

"All of your choices?" Mary asked coyly.

Matthew sipped on his wine. "I rather think so," he replied. "What are you getting at?"

"She can't have been too pleased with me after I slighted your first proposal," Mary said ruefully. "I'd be surprised if she'd forgiven me when I can hardly forgive myself." She paused and added, "When I reflect on that time, I wish so very much that I had had better counsel, or..." Her voice dropped off.

Matthew looked at her intently. "Or what?" he asked her.

"Or had simply been a better person," she concluded uneasily. She looked at him and smiled meagrely. She placed her spoon in the bowl in front of her.

Matthew was moved. "Mary, you must not blame yourself for our falling out." He reached for her hand and held it gently. "I should have had more sympathy for your position. A woman's fate is entirely determined by the man she chooses to marry. After that, she wins or loses by his choices alone." He withdrew his hand. "Any one in your place would have acted with equal ambivalence."

Mary smiled at him regretfully. "You're very generous, Matthew. You're forgetting that I loved you. I look back on my actions now and cannot believe how shallow my thinking was then."

Matthew arched his eyebrows. "What about me?" he asked her. "I acted like a petulant child. I was angry with the fickleness of the entail so I broke your heart and mine along with it," he told her candidly. "What is worse is that I knew that you loved me. And I loved you. So who is to blame?" He looked at her pointedly, then rose from his chair and rang for Moseley. This discussion discomfited him, bringing him back to a time of insufferable loss and heartache. Moseley arrived to clear the table and left.

"I've upset you," Mary said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"No, you haven't, Mary," he assured her. "I upset myself." He returned to his seat. Mary reached over and placed her hand on his forearm. He placed his hand on hers and caressed her fingers. Hearing Moseley's approach, they drew back from each other. As the butler served the various dishes in series, Matthew was amazed at the feast that Mrs. Bird had prepared on such short notice. Moseley finished his service by replenishing their glasses. "Thank you, Moseley." The butler retired at once, sensing that his presence was neither needed nor desired.

"So we were both foolish," Mary said softly. "We shall not speak of it again."

They each sampled their glass of wine and turned their attention to the plates before them. Mary was very pleased. She hadn't realized the size of her appetite until the smell of the roasted chicken had wafted its way up to her nose. The tender breast melted in her mouth and the poulette sauce was the perfect complement. She looked up at Matthew, saying, "Mrs. Bird has outdone herself. This is marvellous." Matthew nodded in agreement. He added, "Oh ye of little faith. You suggested we were to starve." He smiled at her triumphantly.

Mary laughed. "We would have starved with the menu you had proposed."

"Oh, you're still on the menu, Mary," Matthew replied. He wiped the corners of his mouth and leaned forward over his plate. "I hope you don't think otherwise."

Several seconds passed before Mary answered. "My, you have a rather large appetite, Matthew," she responded. "Is there no satisfying you?" Mary took a sip of her wine and looked at him over the rim of her glass. Matthew smiled at her brazenly but said nothing. They continued to dine until their plates were empty. Over the course of their meal, they decided that a four-week sojourn on the continent would serve them well as their honeymoon. Mary was partial to Italy, specifically Florence and Rome, while Matthew's tastes veered further south to the isles of Greece. Over the fruit plate, he recounted the many benefits of secluded beaches, white silky sands and azure waters. Privately, he longed to see the length of her lying on those sands, her skin drenched with the waters of the warm Aegean Sea. He would persuade her.

Matthew set down his knife and fork. "Are you quite done, darling?" he asked her pleasantly.

"Yes, thank you, Matthew," she answered, "Positively stuffed."

"Then may I suggest that we repair to my room for dessert?" Matthew rose from the table. Mary dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and left it folded by the side of her plate. Matthew pulled out her chair for her. She thanked him and made her way to the staircase. She looked behind her quickly and spied him smiling like a libertine. She stopped at the foot of the stairs and leaned against the newel post, her hands at her back. He came to her and put his arms around her waist. He kissed her lips, her cheek, and the side of her neck. She laughed. "What is it?" he whispered against her throat. She draped her arms about his neck.

"I was just thinking about the first time we met," she said softly, smiling to herself.

"What about it?" Matthew murmured in her ear.

"You feared my parents were going to push me at you," she said. "Yet here we are. They don't want me here with you and you're ready to carry me off to your bedroom. It is comical, isn't it?" She looked at him, her eyes twinkling.

Matthew stopped and looked at her. "You're comical, yes." They were both smiling as they kissed each other. The kiss deepened and Matthew pressed her against him. He gathered her in his arms and carried her up the stairs. They had fifteen minutes at the most and they would make the most of it.


	19. Changes

Chapter 19 – Changes

Cora sat stiffly at the desk in the library as she waited for the others to arrive for dinner. Her aristocratic bearing belied her American roots. She had become the title that her dowry had made attainable for her; and, but for her accent, no one would have suspected her a foreign-born commoner. She was resplendent this evening, and there was no hint of the rough-hewn heritage that her daughter, Mary, so often derided. The irony was – and it was clear – that Mary's stately beauty and poise came directly from her mother. And now, Cora feared Mary had also inherited the hot-blooded boldness that had made her grandfather one of the wealthiest men in America. While that temperament may have served his purposes, its application in Mary's circumstances could prove to have quite the opposite effect.

Cora rose from the desk. She had no heart to finish her letter to Sybil. She had related to her the excitement of the wedding preparations and she had written of her concerns for Sybil in these early weeks of her pregnancy, but Mary's current tactic preoccupied her, and she could think of nothing else. Mary had not yet returned home, and the dinner hour was almost upon them. She suspected that Mary was with him in a passionate rendezvous that they had arranged in clandestine fashion. Cora could appreciate very well that the alliance between Mary and Matthew was the best possible outcome for the Grantham estate. However, that consideration, although substantial, should not outweigh all others. It was uncanny to her that Mary should persist in this conduct when she had already brought the family to dishonour and ridicule with the late Mr. Pamuk.

Carson entered the library and the Countess of Grantham looked to him. "The Dowager Countess has arrived, m'Lady," he announced. "Shall I show her into the drawing room, Ma'am?"

"Yes, of course, Carson, thank you. I will be there in a few minutes."

Cora collected her thoughts and sorted her feelings. With a grand sigh, she headed towards the hallway. She had assumed that the War, once over, would become but a distant memory soon to be forgotten. Everything, she had told herself, would soon settle to its rightful place, but things had not gone that way at all. Sybil's indiscriminate choice of husband had been the first omen. And this affair between Matthew and Mary was yet another sign that things would never be the same again.

Cora entered the drawing room, greeting the Dowager Countess with a polite apology. They exchanged pleasantries about the weather and the wedding plans. Lord Grantham soon joined them, and it wasn't long before the most senior Grantham commented on the absence of her two granddaughters.

"Edith should be here shortly," Cora replied. "As for Mary, who knows? She went riding this afternoon and, so far, hasn't returned." Cora's mouth was set in a firm and unmoving line.

"Why do I sense that the issue here amounts to more than simply being late for dinner?" The Dowager Countess looked down the bridge of her nose to her daughter-in-law.

"I think she may be with Matthew," Cora answered her. Her tone was veiled with displeasure.

"And what of it? The last I heard they were still affianced and he was still the heir," replied the elder countess. "If you ask me, everything is as it should be."

Carson entered the drawing room, announcing the arrival of Isobel Crawley.

"Good evening, everyone. I'm sorry I'm late," Cousin Isobel said as she spread her smile among the group. "So Matthew is not here. I thought he might be."

"Have you no inkling of where he might be?" Lord Grantham asked hopefully. "Perhaps working late?"

"Naturally, that was the first place I checked," Isobel nodded in Lord Grantham's direction. "The office was closed. I'm certain he'll turn up. I've never known Matthew to completely disregard the hour without good reason." She sat down on the settee next to Cousin Violet.

Lady Edith chose that moment to enter the room and it was a fortunate distraction, from Lord Grantham's point of view. She greeted everyone cheerily and seemed eager to give an account of her afternoon. She had taken to assisting Sir Anthony Stralan with his daily errands, Sir Anthony having lost the use of his right arm in the War. As Robert understood the arrangement, Sir Anthony had agreed to his daughter's assistance, provided he paid her a regular stipend. According to Cora, Sir Anthony was very clear this was to be a purely platonic enterprise, hence his invitation that Edith be properly compensated for valuable services rendered. The premise was unusual for a woman of Edith's rank and social station, but Lady Edith was a hard worker and she had been well-trained as a nurse's attendant. All in all, Lord Grantham was happy to see his daughter preoccupied in a pastime that she enjoyed with a gentleman employer whom he liked and respected.

His mother had another view. She was quick to caution Cora and Robert on the dimmer prospects of this situation. "Are you quite sure this is an advisable position for Edith?" She lowered her voice and continued, "She could very well turn out to be his Jane Eyre, tied to a half-man for the rest of her life."

"Mother, Sir Anthony can hardly be classified as half a man. He is a war hero and nothing less," Lord Robert declared. "In any event, I'm assured that he has no interest in her that way."

"And so it begins," she replied smugly. "You would do well to read the book, Robert."

"I have read it, Mother," he replied quickly. "As I understand it, Jane's reconciliation with Rochester was a happy ending, despite Rochester's disabilities." He smiled at her and sipped on his aperitif.

The Dowager Countess pursed her lips. She replied smartly, "Charlotte would have done well to re-visit Thornfield Hall sometime after the wedding. A proper epilogue would have told the sadder tale, I'm sure." She smoothed her skirt.

The dinner gong sounded. Cora hung back to speak to her husband and allowed the others to precede her into the dining room. She grabbed his arm. "It is no longer a matter for speculation. Mary is with Matthew," Cora stated to her husband in hushed tones.

Lord Grantham looked back at her blankly. "Cora, really, what did you expect? You created this situation when you imposed an unforgiving moratorium on their affection for one another. Is it any wonder that she's run off to see him?" He raised his eyebrows towards her and said nothing further. He proceeded to the dining room and she followed in a huff. Her consternation was thinly disguised.

After everyone was seated, Carson handed a note to His Lordship. Robert, surprised, opened the note quickly. With a straight face, he addressed the table: "It appears that Mary and Matthew will not be joining us this evening after all. Mary accepted his invitation to dine with him at Crawley House tonight. They send their regrets." He placed the note beside his cutlery.

Cora reached over and grabbed the note from its resting place near her husband. She read it quickly and turned to Cousin Isobel. "Did you have any role in this?" she asked her pointedly, her words bound with anger. It would not be the first time that Isobel Crawley had ushered one of her daughters into the corridors of unconventional behaviour.

Isobel Crawley turned to face her squarely. "Of course not, Cora. I am as surprised as you are." Isobel looked away as she paused to consider this development. Matthew had placed her in a very awkward position.

"Now what do you have to say, Robert?" Cora stared at him with fire in her eyes. Her husband returned her stare with a forbearance that gave no ground. "You know how I feel, Cora, and now is not the time to discuss it. Please."

Cousin Violet chimed in. "Really, I fail to see the strife in this. They are both respectable, mature adults. I quite admire them both." She looked at Robert and then to Cora. "Mary could not have made a finer match if she had been engaged to a Royal. If anyone deserves the benefit of any doubt, it would be Matthew."

"Thank you, Cousin Violet," Isobel uttered finally. "We can agree on that score."

Cora could no longer restrain herself. "Well, then. It will surprise you both to know that Mary and Matthew have already crossed that line," she announced sorely. "In this very house."

Robert shook his head gravely. "Please, Cora," he said softly to her.

Lady Edith, who had watched the exchange eagerly, set down her wineglass and said brightly, "Ma-ma, be that as it may, Mary has done far worse than this. At least on this occasion, she is to be married." The other four turned to her, each face bearing the same expression of absolute appall.

"Thank you, Edith," Cora said to her harshly. "You have said quite enough."

The room fell mute until the Dowager Countess sensed an obligation upon her to breach the awkward moment. "Now, now. Let us all endeavor to maintain a reasonable and proper perspective. Perhaps they have acted precipitously, but they are to be married in less than a fortnight."

Isobel took a long draught from her wine glass. There was much that she could say in this situation with the knowledge that Matthew had imparted to her about Mary's past. But the better part of valor is discretion, she reminded herself. She chose the high road and began bravely, "You might expect that I would be terribly disappointed in Matthew here, but I cannot be. I am, and will always be, immensely proud of him." She looked at Cora. "He survived the War. Under his command, his platoon triumphed at the Battle of Amiens, and he almost paid for it with his life." She paused. "I imagine at the Front he must have asked himself more than once if he would ever know love, if he would ever have that chance again." She looked at all of them. "So as much as I wish he had exercised more discipline in these circumstances, I, for one, will not pass judgment on them."

"Well said, Cousin Isobel," Robert spoke out clearly. "I could not agree more." He glanced at everyone in turn. Cousin Violet appeared suitably moved by Cousin Isobel's words. "Hear, hear," she said softly. As for Cora, she stared down at her plate in silence. Lord Robert rang for Carson. His appetite had returned.

At Crawley House, Matthew and Mary were entangled on his bed, both fully clothed. Matthew's hand was under her skirt, bracing her leg around his right hip as he kissed her. He stopped to look at her and moved his hand to her face. He held her cheek gently. "Mary, I don't want this day to end. How I wish you could stay with me tonight," he said to her softly. "I am so utterly consumed by my love for you." His lips were shiny and wet from her kisses.

Mary's eyes burned with desire for him. "We don't have much time, darling," she reminded him. She sat up and removed her shoes. Next, she stood up, reached under her skirt, and pulled down her drawers gingerly. She reached for Matthew then and pulled him up from the bed. As he stood in front of her, she began to undo his pants. While they kissed, she reached into his briefs and pulled him out. She began to stroke him gently. He moaned. "Oh, Mary," he whispered. His knees went weak, forcing him to sit. She climbed on top of him, with her skirt lifted. He was ready and so was she. She lowered herself onto him until he filled her up. She gasped softly and began to rock her hips slowly.

"Oh, Matthew, I love you. I love this with you," she said softly. Matthew was panting now. He lay back and stared at her as she moved to a steady, sultry rhythm. He reached under her skirt and felt the muscles of her thighs move as they worked on him. Mary held his gaze and leaned forward, placing her hands on his chest. They each shifted their hips, bringing Matthew deeper inside of her. "I'm very close now," she whispered to him, breathing quickly. She maintained her rhythm, relishing the fullness of him. Suddenly, she reached for it, that final searing quiver that would undo her. Mary drew her breath in sharply twice and then again. He watched her as she came and he felt her tremble. In an instant, his arousal reached its peak. He closed his eyes and thrust upward with the surge. All of his muscles gave way under the force of his rapture. He groaned. He felt her lips on his and he opened his mouth for her. Their tongues met while Mary continued to sway on him until they were both spent.

Perhaps a minute had passed when Matthew stopped their kiss to look at her. He caught her gaze. "Promise me that you will never leave me, Mary," he asked her quietly. "Promise me."

Mary raised herself on her arms and looked down at him. "My dear Matthew," she replied. "How could I leave you? I could not go on living without our love for each other."

He looked at her intently. "Still, you must promise me." His eyes were a steely blue-gray, and they shone back at her like mirrors. Mary sensed a heavy darkness in him and she felt his need keenly. "I promise you, Matthew, I shall never leave you… never." She lay against him and held him tightly. She raised her head and looked at him again. "I will never ever leave you," she repeated softly, as she stroked his hair. Matthew sighed. She kissed him tenderly on the lips.

Matthew's spell left just as quickly as it came. "As far as desserts go, that was by far the sweetest and the most delectable that I've ever had," he said to her, smiling. Mary laughed as she raised herself off the bed. "We must hurry, Matthew. Who knows what awaits us at the big house." She lifted her drawers off the floor. The day's activities had left her with a pleasant burn between her legs. She would have that to comfort her until the next time.


End file.
